


Dream of Gold

by LadyLC



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Fluff, Humor, M/M, SCONES!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 39,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLC/pseuds/LadyLC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon the death of his cousins, Bilbo Baggins left his life in London behind to care for his orphaned nephew, Frodo, in Boston. After more than five years, Bilbo has accepted his quiet life of cooking and writing. When Frodo's professor appears at his door one day in need of a chaperone for the senior class trip to Erebor, Bilbo discovers that he might have one more adventure in him. Meanwhile, Thorin Oakenshield has devoted every day of the last twenty years to his family's kingdom; fifteen of them were spent in exile and the last five have been spent toiling to repair S.M.A.U.G.'s damage. Despairing of his heirs and hounded by his friends to look to his own happiness, Thorin believes that Erebor is the only comfort he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Summer, 2007 – London, England

Bilbo Baggins was a quiet man, well-respected in his neighborhood and renowned within certain circles of the city. At almost 30 years old, he had been asked, no, _begged_ , to bake pies and pastries for some of the most famous restaurants in London. He also just finished authoring his first cookbook, _There and Bake Again_ , which was poised to hit the bestseller list in the next few weeks.   

This night in particular, he snored softly in his bed, dreaming of marzipan-encrusted cakes and apple-filled tarts. As he tugged the blankets tighter, a piercing ringtone woke him. Reaching blindly for the nightstand, Bilbo felt around for his mobile. “Hello?” 

“Yes, please, is this Mr. Baggins?” A shaky female _American_ voice asked. 

“This is he. I’m sorry, who’s calling?” Bilbo glanced over at the clock to see that it was just after midnight. 

“Mr. Baggins, I’m sorry…” she hesitated. “I’m Nina Lightfoot, Drogo and Primmy’s neighbor.” There was a swallowed snuffle on the line. 

“Ms. Lightfoot? What’s wrong?” 

“There’s been an accident, on the river.” After another awkward pause, she continued, “They…they didn’t make it. I’m sorry. Terribly sorry.” 

Bilbo gasped, sat up, and swiped at the table lamp. “What? No…it can’t be…” He had just spoken to Drogo two nights ago. The older Baggins delighted in regaling Bilbo of twelve-year-old Frodo’s latest exploits, including plans for a weekend boating trip. The two men had tentatively planned for Bilbo to visit Massachusetts in September for a joint birthday party. Drogo always laughed that his son shared a birthday with his favorite cousin. “Wait, wait, what about Frodo?” Bilbo whispered. 

Nina sniffed. “He’s unconscious, but the doctors are…cautiously optimistic. Please, Mr. Baggins, you must come at once. Frodo has no one else.” 

“Of course, of course.” Bilbo rubbed his eyes. “I’ll start making arrangements immediately. I will call you as soon as I have a flight. May I reach you at this number?” 

“Yes,” Nina replied, sounding more composed. “I am going to stay at the hospital for now but my husband, Theo, will be able to meet you at the airport.” 

After murmuring his thanks and promising to talk to her soon, Bilbo ended the call. He looked blankly around the room, still stricken by the news and dazed by sleep. After a long moment, the grieving man dialed the mobile still in his hands. “Falco? It’s Bilbo. Sorry to call, but Drogo is dead and Frodo’s injured. I need you to make arrangements for me to fly to Boston on the first flight out tomorrow morning.” 

Falco Chubb-Baggins, a distant cousin and Bilbo’s insomniac literary agent, expressed surprise and sorrow at the news. He pledged to take care of all of the details and told Bilbo he’d ring him back shortly. 

After throwing a few items in his suitcase, Bilbo went downstairs to make a cup of tea and wait for Falco’s call.


	2. Everybody Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A side-trip to Erebor, Present Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fanfiction in ten years. I decided to write it after seeing the movie and in lieu of working on my dissertation. I hope you enjoy. I plan to post once a day or every other day. Please note, I have adjusted several people's ages/birthdays to fit in with the more compressed human aging cycle. Dís is older than Thorin, while Drogo and Primula Baggins were older than Bilbo. Also, there will be hints of a modern Merlin storyline, that may evolve in a later story (or not)...if I get that far!
> 
> Note: Khuzdul will be indicated with « and ».

Spring 2013 – Arkenstone Palace, the Kingdom of Erebor

Thorin ‘Oakenshield,’ scion of the House of Durin, and restored King of Erebor, frowned at the newspapers in front of him. Ori, his Private Secretary, had brought them into his office early this morning along with an extra large pot of coffee. The young man had been uncharacteristically silent and departed immediately after the delivery. Sitting at his desk and reading through the news, Thorin understood why. 

His nephews (and heirs), Fíli and Kíli, had managed to capture all of the headlines in one of the more popular scandal rags, while the Pendragons merited a lone picture. As much as he wanted to congratulate Kíli for clocking the Rhovanion crown prince, Thorin knew that such behavior could not be encouraged. Even after five rather successful years on the throne, the world still kept a wary eye on the Durins. With full production from the mines only a few months away, it was just a matter of time before the United States and its allies came hunting the rare earths found deep under the mountain. 

Thorin buzzed Ori on the desk intercom. “«Call my sister.»” 

“«Yes, sir.»” Long experience with Thorin taught Ori that telling the king the Princess Dís was not available would only lead to tears (his own). After the first incident and with great alacrity, the secretary had created a list of all possible numbers that might reach Dís at her residence in London, the estate in Norfolk, and the summer house in Brighton. He dialed the first number. 

After a few rings, an elderly voice answered in English, “Good morning, Durin residence.” 

Switching from Khuzdul, Ori responded, “Good morning to you as well, Mrs. Brown. His Majesty would like to speak with the Princess.” 

Mrs. Brown, the Durins’ housekeeper since their original exile to England, laughed, “Saw the papers, did he?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Her Highness has already taken the lads to task. Kíli, in particular, appeared most contrite.” Mrs. Brown sighed. “Nevertheless, I don’t think they truly understand the consequences of their actions.” After Ori’s murmured his agreement, she continued, “One moment, I will tell the Princess that you’ve called.” 

A few minutes later, Dís came on the line. “I’ve already dealt with it, Ori.” 

“Yes, Your Highness, Mrs. Brown informed me, but please…don’t make me tell Thorin.” 

“You’re a coward, Ori. A terrible coward.” Dís laughed after saying it though, to remove the sting. She didn’t blame him for fearing her brother’s wrath. “Put me through.” 

Glad to be out of the line of fire, Ori finished sorting the paperwork for Thorin’s upcoming meeting with the Lord Chamberlin, Balin, and Dwalin, Balin’s younger brother. Thorin’s best friend from childhood, Dwalin had become the Commander of the Armed Forces after the Restoration. 

Ori heard Thorin’s raised voice, even through the solid oak door. 

“No, you listen to me, madam. Those boys need a firmer hand than you are…” Thorin trailed off. Ori strained to hear the rest. “No, Dís, I didn’t mean it that way. Yes, yes, of course.” The King paused for a longer time. “I will have Ori make the arrangements and coordinate with Nali. I love you, too, and I will talk to you later this week. Good-bye.” 

_Nali. Ugh._ Ori jumped when the intercom buzzed again. 

“«Ori, the Princes will be coming to Erebor for the final few weeks of Fíli’s term break. Work with Nali to arrange their schedules.»” 

“«Yes, sir.»” Ori scowled, glad that Thorin remained in the inner office. Nali, Dís’ Private Secretary was always difficult. “«I believe that Lord Balin and Master Dwalin will be along shortly.»” 

“«Send them in as soon as they arrive.»” 

* * *

Thorin looked up from his desk as Balin and Dwalin entered. “«Coffee, gentlemen?»” 

“«Thank you, Thorin. Balin, the usual?»” Dwalin poured himself a large cup and then filled Balin’s with milk and sugar, adding only a few drops of the strong brew at the end. 

Balin spread the paperwork Ori had given him on the meeting table. Taking his drink from Dwalin, he waited for a nod from Thorin before seating himself and beginning the meeting. “«Everything is going well, Thorin. Better than we hoped, really. Dori and Nori have all of the updated numbers from the mines. Ori said he would have them to me before Wednesday’s meeting. Bofur and Bifur report brewing is at capacity and that demand for exports is rising. They hope to have a new flavor out for the summer.»” 

The King smiled faintly. “«Excellent. I look forward to tasting it. Dwalin?»” 

“«Status unchanged regarding military matters. Unfortunately, there are several reconstruction issues to be addressed. Repairs in Dale are behind, as are several of the restoration projects in Laketown.»” Dwalin halted to take another swallow of coffee. “«A solution presented itself though. I was contacted by an old friend of your father’s a few months ago. Do you remember Professor Grey?»” 

“«Yes, vaguely.»” Thorin motioned for him to continue. 

“«He’s taken a job as a full-time teacher, but he remains on the board of an international exchange program that sends students out in two week intervals for a combination of education and service. The program was looking for new sites and the Professor thought that Erebor might be a strong candidate.»” 

Thorin walked over to the window and looked out over the garden in contemplation. “«What exactly does it entail?»” 

“«In return for having the students work on a variety of projects, such as supervised construction, the host provides various educational activities such as language training, field trips, and other activities that might be of interest, depending on the location.»” Dwalin snorted. “«I suggested they might like a cooking class from Bombur. Originally, I had planned to have them working in Dale, but with the difficulties here in the capital, I’ve reassigned the group to here.»” 

Balin joined the conversation. “«I reviewed the original paperwork that the Professor sent to Dwalin as well as the updated paperwork for the new plans. Everything looks to be in order. I think it would be a good opportunity for both the students and Erebor.»” 

Thorin turned from the window and looked at his two main advisors. “«Sounds reasonable. Keep me informed. See if they would like a private tour of the palace, too. Let them see some of the rooms that aren’t normally open to the public.»” 

Balin nodded. “«I will speak to Professor Grey later today.” He stood, gathering up the paperwork. After bowing to Thorin, he started to leave. “«Dwalin?»” 

“«I need one more word.»” 

“«Very well.»” Balin closed the door as he departed. 

Thorin moved over to his desk and poured the last cup of coffee. “«Yes?»” 

“«I suppose you’ve seen the papers?»” 

Thorin ran his fingers through his hair. “«I spoke to Dís earlier. Fíli and Kíli will be here in a few weeks to stay for about a month. I’m going to suggest that Kíli find a university for next year a bit closer to home. I know this ‘Gap Year’ is very important to young people these days, but I haven’t seen any indication that he is doing anything useful with it. Fíli can stay at Oxford…he hasn’t done anything too outrageous. As long as he doesn’t get caught with Uther’s daughter, I think we’ll be fine.»” 

“«Have you told Gloin he will need to increase the number of guards on call?»” 

Gloin had acted as Thorin’s head of security since before the Restoration of Erebor. 

«“I’ll have Ori summon him when we’re done. If that’s all?»” 

Dwalin leaned back against Thorin’s desk and looked pained for a moment. “«Are you sure that you’re alright, my prince?»” 

Thorin blinked. “«Wha-?»” 

“«You’ve worked yourself non-stop for the last five years since we’ve returned to Erebor…and for the previous fifteen years after S.M.A.U.G. invaded and drove us out.»” 

Thorin looked over coolly. “«I thank you for your concern, Dwalin, but I am fine. Good day.»” He sat down behind his desk and started shuffling papers, pointedly ignoring his friend. 

“«Tho-»” 

“«I said, _good day_.»” 

Dwalin opened the office door. Defeated, he knew when to retreat, but not without the last word. “«This conversation isn’t over, Thorin.»” _Slam._ He yanked the door shut behind him, nodded at Ori, and all but sprinted from the royal office. 


	3. Every Day Like the One Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gandalf is looking for someone to share in an adventure (a.k.a., the one where Gandalf needs a chaperone).

Spring 2013 – Arnor, Massachusetts (about 20 miles outside of Boston)

Bilbo carefully finished the last swirls of frosting on the almond cake. The executive chef at Bistro de le Vie had called last night in a panic. It seemed that the regular baker came down with the flu and would be unable to finish preparing the desserts for a huge gala that the restaurant was catering. Bilbo had been more than happy to help, especially at twice his usual rate. 

Making the transition from London to a suburb of Boston had been hard, but Bilbo persevered. It took only a few days to decide that it would be best for Frodo to stay in his family home rather than be uprooted to England, which he had only visited once. With Falco’s invaluable help, Bilbo had quickly closed up his home and moved his catering business to Arnor. Since then, he had written two more cookbooks and become one of the most sought-after pastry artisans in the region. 

While he missed London, sometimes desperately, Bilbo did not for one moment regret taking care of his younger cousin…usually. In this instance, looking out the window and seeing Frodo’s history teacher hurrying up the sidewalk, caused him great concern. After carefully setting down his utensils, Bilbo opened the kitchen door. 

“Professor Grey! What a surprise! Come in, come in. I hope that Frodo-” 

“Mr. Baggins, please, let me interrupt.” Professor Grey stepped in to the kitchen, towering over Bilbo. “Frodo hasn’t done anything wrong…this week.” He smiled. “Truly, he’s a good lad, just…spirited.” 

Bilbo looked up and nodded. “Yes, I know. I’m just startled to see you here.” 

“May I sit down?” 

“Certainly! How rude of me…may I offer you a cup of tea?” 

“Please.” 

Bilbo busied himself preparing tea as Professor Grey began to speak. 

“I am in need of...a chaperone.” 

“A chaperone?” 

“Yes. As you know, Frodo will be participating in Fornost Academy’s Senior Class trip in two weeks. The size of the group requires four chaperones. Professor Radegast will be joining me, as well as Rosie Cotton’s mother, Lily. Unfortunately, Professor Morinehtar’s wife has gone into labor early and he will no longer be able to accompany us.” Professor Grey looked directly at Bilbo, who had stepped away from the stove. “I require a responsible adult who also gets along well with the students, and can take two weeks away without any trouble.” 

“Well, I don’t know.” Bilbo tugged absently at his apron. “I haven’t left Massachusetts since I moved here. I’m also very busy with my next book.” Bilbo continued, listing several other excuses, each one flimsier than the last. 

The older man replied forcefully, “Mr. Baggins, for the sake of the children, please. There will be no trip to Erebor if you do not agree.” 

The teapot started to whistle. Relieved by the momentary distraction, Bilbo poured two cups. “Hmm…what would I have to do?” 

“The trip lasts fourteen days. Most mornings, the students will be engaged in various renovation projects in the capital, supervised by local staff. In the afternoon, there will be classes in Khuzdul, trips to museums and other important locations on the island. One full day will be a side trip to Esgaroth, the capital of Rhovanion and another will be a trip to see the mines. There are a few other excursions that might interest you, in particular a cooking class with the King’s Head Chef, Bombur.” 

Professor Grey took the teacup from Bilbo and sipped it. “Thank you, Mr. Baggins. It tastes like home…I’m sorry, where was I? Oh, yes, truthfully, as a chaperone, you would be responsible for helping to watch over the young people. Not all of the time of course…there will definitely be periods where the students must simply check in with one of us periodically.” 

“I see.” Bilbo glanced down at his cake thoughtfully. “Let me think about it, Professor. I must talk to Frodo…I promise to ring you first thing in the morning.” 

“That’s all I can ask, Mr. Baggins.” The Professor placed the necessary paperwork on the table, stood up, and walked to the door. “I will speak with you first thing then. Also, please, do call me Gandalf.” 

* * *

After covering up the almond cake, Bilbo looked down at the detailed itinerary and map that Gandalf had left. His love for maps was second only to his love for pastries. He noted that Erebor was due south of Italy paired with the island nation of Rhovanion. He vaguely recalled that some sort of war or uprising had occurred there in the early 1990s but he did not remember the details. 

The slamming of the front door let Bilbo know that Frodo had arrived home from his friend’s house. 

“I’m in the kitchen, Frodo.” 

“Of course you are, Uncle.” Frodo dropped his bag on the floor and grabbed a strawberry-cream muffin from the sideboard. He looked down at the table and saw all of the Erebor trip paperwork. “What’s this?” 

“Professor Grey stopped by this afternoon. He explained Professor Morinehtar had to step out? He asked me to replace him.” 

Frodo grinned. “Really? That would be great, Uncle! Morinehtar is a big drag. I know Sam, Merry, and Pip would love if you joined us, too.” He bounced up and down on his toes. 

“If you are comfortable with it then, I will call Professor Grey tomorrow and let him know to add me to the roster.” Bilbo gave Frodo a hug. “I guess I have one more adventure in me.” 

Frodo laughed and started to dash out of the room. “I’m going to call Sam right now. He’s going to be wicked excited. Will you bake snacks for us to take on the plane?” 

Bilbo called after him, “Only if you promise to be good! Come back in fifteen minutes to help me finish preparing dinner.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not be posting tomorrow. Sorry, I've found someone who hasn't seen The Hobbit.


	4. The Adventures Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goin' on a jet plane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbit was better the 2nd time (especially Thorin)!

Two weeks later – Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean

Bilbo reflected that perhaps he had acquiesced a bit too easily to this whole chaperone gig. Gandalf told him that half the class chose to travel to Erebor while the other half planned a trip to some tiny country in Asia. While he was familiar with Frodo’s close partners-in-mischief, Sam, Merry and Pippin, Bilbo was quite unprepared for the rest of the group on the Erebor trip.

He tried to sort out the other eight students again. By virtue of being Class President, Aragorn Dunedain acted as the company’s leader. His girlfriend was Arwen Undómiel. Arwen would not sit next to Eowyn Eorl (the twin sister of Eomer); they still had their minor rivalry going on from 9th grade. Eomer and Boromir Denethor endlessly competed to act as Aragorn’s second, all the while while bickering over sports teams. Rosie Cotton seemed very shy and never said much except to Lothiriel, whose last name Bilbo couldn’t recall. Lothiriel would talk to anyone who would listen (she seemed a bit of a gossip). And then there was Lance de Luc, who didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of the group. A reserved boy, Lance was apparently also from England. Bilbo spent part of the evening reminiscing with the lad while they were waiting to board the plane at Logan.

When they first arrived at the airport, the other kids had gathered around Frodo hoping for cookies, which he proceeded to auction off to the highest bidder for increasingly outrageous favors. This evolved into a secondary market with the winners bartering them to the losers. When it turned into a poker game with the sweets being used as currency (cheesecake brownies being the most valuable apparently), Professor Grey put his foot down. 

Bilbo also contemplated his fellow chaperones. Mrs. Cotton was extremely tiny but had a commanding presence. All of the girls immediately fell in line when she spoke. Professor Radegast looked a bit unkempt but seemed friendly enough. According to Frodo, he taught Biology. Finally, despite having met Gandalf on several occasions, he remained the most mysterious. 

* * *

“Psst…Frodo.” 

Frodo awoke suddenly, jerking away from the poking finger and seeing Lothiriel leaning over the chair behind him. “What?” He whispered back.

“Rosie and I were wondering…why isn’t there a Mrs. Baggins?”

“Huh? I’m too…”

“Not you, idiot. Your uncle…cousin…whatever?”

“Oh…” Frodo tapped his finger against his lips and rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t sure it was any of her business but…“Uncle Bilbo is gay.”

Lothiriel leaned back a bit, “Does he have a boyfriend then?” 

“Not that I know of. He never mentions it. My dad suggested once that he lost his first love tragically, or something like that. Now, I’ll give you a seven-layer bar if you go away.”

Lothiriel held out her hand.

“Let me go back to sleep.” Frodo pulled the snack out of his bag and passed it off to her. Then he tugged the airplane blanket over his head.

* * *

Bilbo heard the whispering the next morning as they were transiting through London to catch a smaller plane to Erebor. He caught Frodo in the seating area and pulled him aside.

“Frodo, what did you tell Lothiriel?”

“Huh?” Frodo blanked on what Bilbo could even be talking about. “Oh, right! Shi—oot. I’m sorry, Uncle Bilbo! She caught me while I was asleep. I just said you were gay, I didn’t think it was a big deal?”

“No, not that, that part’s fine…I mean the lost love bit!”

“Yeah, about that...” Frodo looked abashed. “I guess it was something Dad told me when I was little. I never thought to ask you. Sorry.”

Bilbo sighed. “He’s not a lost love…it was a one night…erm, a one day stand. I can’t say I believe in true love, but after that, I never found anyone who…” Bilbo trailed off looking discomfited. “Anyway, I’ve been looking to recreate that feeling since then, and, well, I haven’t been successful.”

Frodo frowned. “Wow, Uncle Bilbo, that’s even worse than I thought. So this guy could be out there somewhere right now? We could look him up on Facebook.”

“It’s not that easy, Frodo, or I would have done it long ago. I don’t know his real name. We just traded aliases. He was strangely shy and definitely out of place…. In any event, it began at a private club in London that isn't even there anymore. Classes had just started at Le Cordon Bleu and I hadn’t really met very many people yet. After a few drinks, I took him back to my apartment where I baked him my special chocolate scones. We talked the rest of the night and into the next day, but he left before dinner. I never saw him again.”

Frodo wiggled his eyebrows. “You ‘ _baked him scones_ ’?”

Crossing his arms primly, Bilbo glared without heat, “That is all we did…mostly.” He winked.

“Oh.” Frodo screwed up his face at that fact. “Well, um, when we get back home, the guys and I can help you start looking for him, or something. Merry is wicked good with the computer. Or maybe Professor G. can help? Sometimes, I think he’s a wizard.”

Laughing heartily, Bilbo just shook his head. Across the seating area, he saw Mrs. Cotton signaling to them. “Let’s go, looks like we have a plane to catch. And, yes, when we get back home, maybe I’ll let you try to help me find him. Who knows? I might be sitting next to him on this next flight.”

* * *

Alas, Bilbo’s lost love did not sit next to him on the flight to Erebor. Instead, the small man ended up sandwiched between Gandalf and Lance. He thought perhaps that they planned to segregate all of the English people on purpose, but then realized that it was a ridiculous thought – it was a British airline, full of English people. They were just discriminating against vertically-challenged adults who could fit in the tiny middle-seat. The flight lasted almost four hours, allowing everyone to have lunch and catch a short nap. As Bilbo stood in the Immigration line after deplaning, he marveled at the beautiful murals decorating the walls. The misty mountains stood above beautiful forests and towered over the pounding Mediterranean. 

“Next!”

Frodo poked his uncle. Realizing that he had been distracted, Bilbo hurried up to the booth where the dour-looking official waited, with Frodo close behind him. He handed over both passports.

“Purpose of trip?” The man asked, in strongly-accented English.

“Tourism and Education.”

“Any items to declare?”

Bilbo shook his head to the negative.

“Enjoy your stay.” Pushing the freshly-stamped passports back to the travelers, the official was already calling for the subsequent passenger before Bilbo could say a word of thanks.

“Charming.” Frodo stage-whispered as they moved into the next room.

“I believe that customs and immigration personnel are the same around the world: cloned from a factory in Siberia and implanted with the appropriate language chip at the time of shipping,” Bilbo declared. 

Snickering, Frodo waved Merry and Pippin over to where they were standing. The rest of the group trickled through the lines. Arwen and Eowyn appeared to have overcome their mutual enmity as they giggled at a magazine Lothiriel purchased in London. Frodo made a gagging sound.

“Hmm?” Bilbo queried his nephew.

“The girls found some rag about European royalty. I guess Erebor has two princes our age, or something….” Frodo tilted his head to the side for a better look. “Pictures of the Pendragons, too. Sounds like Arwen is trying to figure out if anyone will be on the island while we are here and which clubs they should plan to target for celebrity sightings.”

After the last stragglers joined them, the group gathered their luggage and moved through customs.

“Excuse me.” A young man, perhaps in his middle-twenties, approached the small gathering just after the final gate. “Are you the students from Fornost Academy?”

Gandalf stepped forward. “Indeed. I am Professor Grey.” He held out his hand.

After shaking it, the young man smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, sir. I am Bain, son of Mayor Bard. When my father’s office was informed of your trip, he asked me to act as your liaison.” A sad shadow crossed his face. “We haven’t really restarted our tourism business much but it is definitely something on the king’s agenda. So, please, let me know if there is anything you require, anything at all.”

All of the chaperones murmured their thanks while the teenagers started to ask questions.

“One at a time, one at a time.” Bain signaled for silence. “Let’s get everyone on the shuttle vans, and I will be delighted to answer every single query at the hotel. We want to get everyone checked in promptly. There is a full night ahead of us and we mustn’t fall behind the schedule.”

The group slowly moved through the airport to the waiting vehicles. 

“I didn’t think there was anything but dinner tonight,” Frodo said to his uncle.

“Neither did I. Perhaps Professor Grey arranged a special activity.”

When everyone was settled into the vans, Bilbo leaned forward to Professor Radegast. “Do you know what Bain was referring to?”

“Indeed, Mr. Baggins. Professor Grey was a good friend of King Thorin’s father. The palace agreed to host a special extended tour this evening. We will be able to see many spaces that are typically closed to the public, including the inner gardens.” The professor seemed particularly pleased about that final point. “They have several rare plants that only grow here or on Rhovanion.”

“I see. Thank you, Professor.” Bilbo relayed this information back to the students, wincing as some of the girls shrieked about potentially meeting the royal family. It was going to be a long two weeks.


	5. Somebody That I Used to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment we've all been waiting for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all my reviewers so far. It has been very encouraging.

With the news that a trip to the palace awaited them, the teenagers found an additional well of energy that allowed them to drop the luggage in their rooms and unpack in record time. They settled down for dinner in the cozy restaurant off the lobby and eagerly consumed the buffet presented to them. 

Bilbo sat with Bain and the other chaperones. He had asked the maître d’ for a menu so he could see the full breadth of items available. Trying to compare the meaningless Khuzdul descriptions (indecipherable runes to tell the truth) with the English and French versions proved futile. “Bain, who translated these menus? The French and English say two different things – are they even close to the original?”

Bain took the menu from Bilbo, glancing through it quickly. “I fear Mr. Baggins, that your best bet is to rely on the French…which is…hmm, close enough that you won’t end up with fish eyes stuffed with sheep tongue. We haven’t had a lot of English-speaking tourism, despite the fact that the House of Durin spent their Exile in the U.K.”

“I beg your pardon, fish eyes stuffed with sheep tongue?” Mrs. Cotton sounded appalled. “Do you really eat that?”

“No, ma’am.” Bain’s eyes sparkled. “It was just a joke. Professor Grey was telling me that Mr. Baggins is a famous chef, so I figured he would appreciate some more exotic cuisine suggestions.”

Mrs. Cotton _hrumphed_ and returned to her salad. Bain returned the menu to Bilbo, who carefully looked through the French translations. He let the swirl of conversation surround him, while he absently nibbled on his baked fish. After a few more minutes, Bilbo commented, “I understand that we are going to have cooking lessons with the Palace Chef?” 

“Oh, yes, Mr. Baggins. Mr. Bombur is celebrated around the island for his excellent command of Ereborian cuisine. He also adds hints of African and Middle Eastern dishes. During the Exile, he spent several years in Egypt,” Bain answered. 

Several of the students had finished eating and approached the table. “Mr. Bain, could you tell us about the castle?” Eomer asked eagerly. “Are there battlements and catapults?”

Bain turned to the group, “Unfortunately, no. Arkenstone Palace is a fully modern building, much like Buckingham or your White House. It had to be restored after we returned as S.M.A.U.G. had destroyed several key sections. Next week, I believe you will take a trip to the ruins of the Iron Castle, home to the founder of the House of Durin. I think there are still a few battlements to be found there. But alas, no catapults.”

The teenagers laughed.

About fifteen minutes later, the group finished eating and allowed the chaperones to march them back outside to the vans. The drive through the city showed them that certain sections had been completely modernized while others still looked positively medieval. 

Bain narrated to the group in his vehicle, including Bilbo and Frodo. “The most modern sections were structures destroyed by S.M.A.U.G. and rebuilt in the last five years. Otherwise, we have worked hard to preserve the original architecture around the city.” He pointed out window. “Up on the right, just before the palace, we’ll be passing by the largest brewery on the island. Originally founded in the mid-1600s, it is one of the longest operating businesses in Erebor, after the mines and a restaurant in Dale. It was renamed _Hidden Door Brewery_ in 2008 after the Restoration, when two close friends of the king purchased it. Unfortunately, the former owners were killed in the 1993 invasion and it was left vacant. The—”

“Look, the palace!” Sam burst out over Bain’s explanation.

“Indeed, Sam,” the guide replied with a faint grin.

Everyone fell silent as the shimmering palace came into view.

Bain cleared his throat. “In the sunset, the glimmer of the Palace is one-of-a-kind. It is created by a special paint filled with rare metals…during the rebuilding, they applied it to the entire exterior.” 

Whispers of “Wow,” “Beautiful,” “Amazing,” filled the van.

They were waved through the side gate by a sour-faced guard and the vans pulled into a small VIP parking area. As the teenagers hopped out, they were greeted by a stout man with lots of reddish hair and a huge beard. 

“Welcome, welcome,” he said in Khuzdul and then switched to English. “Greetings to you, Professor Grey and to the rest of you as well. Welcome to Arkenstone Palace. My name is Gloin and I oversee security here. Everyone will need to sign in and pass through metal detectors.” He gestured for the students to head up the stairs where another guard held the door open. When Bilbo passed by, Gloin blinked with surprise, but quickly schooled his face. “Professor Grey, a moment please, while the students sign in.”

“Yes, Gloin?”

“Who is that?” Gloin discretely motioned at Bilbo. 

“The Uncle of one of the students. He stepped in to replace another chaperone at the last minute? Why?”

Gloin shook his head. “No, I simply thought he looked familiar for a second. Just a passing fancy, I suspect. Anyway, about the tour – it will be hosted by one of our most knowledgeable guides, Frar. He will take the kids through the standard rooms, and then I’ll rejoin you after, while we visit several private areas of the palace, including the king’s personal drawing room and the gardens.”

Gandalf looked pleased and thanked Gloin for his efforts. “Be sure to tell Thorin that we most appreciate this opportunity.”

“I will. His Majesty is out for the evening but I will inform him tomorrow.” Inclining his head with respect at the professor, Gloin stepped through a nearby door marked _Private_ in Khuzdul, English, and French.

At that point, Frar had already talked briefly with Bain to discover what the students had heard on their ride through the city and led the group into the main hall. Professor Grey lingered in the back of the group with Bilbo, while Mrs. Cotton and Professor Radegast kept to the middle and Frar and Bain led the way.

“As you already know, Arkenstone Palace was partially destroyed in 1993 when S.M.A.U.G. invaded. Prince Thorin at the time and his grandfather, King Thror, held one wing for almost a week before they were overwhelmed. In the ensuing battle, the king was killed and Thorin taken hostage. Only after direct intervention from the United Nations was Thorin’s father, the new King Thrain, able to secure the prince’s release.”

Frar pointed up to the gallery of paintings on the wall. “Here you see King Thror and King Thrain II. A new portrait of Thorin II is currently being completed and will be unveiled this summer.”

Bilbo stopped listening as Frar continued to recite the more recent history of Erebor and the Durins. He looked at the final picture in the row, a shadowy landscape prominently featuring a tall peak. A whisper of song drifted across his mind. _Fiery mountain beneath the moon_. Bilbo couldn’t quite remember why he recalled those words. He realized that the tour had moved ahead of him and hurried to catch up to Gandalf.

* * *

An hour later, Frar paused at the end of narrow hallway. “This ends the regular portion of the tour. Mr. Gloin will now rejoin us to escort the group through the private areas of the palace while I continue the narration.”

By now, Bilbo was deeply regretting the extra tea he had consumed at dinner. Stepping close to Gandalf, he whispered, “Do you think it would be okay if I detoured to the loo?”

The older man nodded. “Gloin informed me no one was in residence tonight. If I recall correctly, after we pass into the next room, it will be down a short hall to the right, and then a left, second door on the right.”

“Right.” Bilbo nodded. “Right, left, right. Should be easy enough.” He stepped away from group as Gloin started directing them into the next hall and headed down the short hallway that Gandalf had identified. “Now left, then right….”

He had clearly made his way into the private quarters of the palace but opening the second door on the right revealed the promised restroom. Decorated in stunning white marble, the bathroom clearly belonged to a member of the royal family. Needless to say, the urgent call of nature erased any qualms Bilbo might have had about using it. After completing his business, he stepped back into the hallway and attempted to retrace his steps. “Left, right…no, was it right, left? Damn!” Bilbo looked around to make sure no one had heard him swear. He would have charged Frodo a dollar for it.

A door at the end of the hall he just entered looked vaguely promising. Maybe he could find his way back to the group another way. Just as he reached for the knob though, it swung away from him to reveal… “You! Oh, my god.” Bilbo stumbled back, sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him. Perhaps his joking with Frodo this morning had sparked his overactive imagination.

To be fair, the man on the other side of the door looked just as poleaxed. “Bill?”

Bilbo laughed, slightly hysterical. No one had called him Bill in almost twenty years…not since that wintery night in London. Yet here before him was the one person in the world who apparently did call him Bill. “Oak?” He hardly managed to croak it out.

The man before him was older, with long dark wavy hair graying at the temples. It stood in stark contrast to the close-cropped style he had worn in the 1990s. There was no doubt that it was his ‘lost love’ though. Bilbo knew those eyes anywhere. He tried to speak again but all that came out was one more whispered ‘ _oh my god_.’

Another horribly awkward moment passed before ‘Oak’ grabbed his arm and dragged him through the doorway to fall on a conveniently located bench.

“Sit down, you look you’re going to pass out.”

“Oak…what, what are you doing here? What happened? You said…you said you would call. You took my number and…and, my scones!”

The dark-haired man colored slightly and cleared his throat. “Bill, I…”

“Actually, it’s really Bilbo.”

“Right, Bilbo. You recall my father had just died? I thought that I was going to stay in London, but I ended up returning to school immediately, in…er, Germany. It was easier this way, believe me. The next few years weren’t…” He paused looking for a word, “…good.”

Bilbo knew that he was probably correct as the two men had only shared a day of conversation but it didn’t completely remove the sting. “But you loved my scones…”

‘Oak’ laughed, breaking some of the tension. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never eaten another scone, much to Bombur’s dismay. I knew they would never compare to yours.”

Bilbo looked pleased. “Oh, you know Bombur, then? Do you work here?” He started chatting, suddenly nervous, “I’m supposed to be on a tour with Frar, Gloin and Professor Gandalf Grey, but I lost my way back on a trip to the lavatory.” 

“Er, you could say that…”

Before ‘Oak’ could finish his statement though, one of the nearby doors flew open, slamming against the wall. 

“Mr. Baggins! Where are you? Mr. Baggins?” Gloin rushed into the hallway, looking around madly. He stopped dead at the sight of the two men on the bench.

Bilbo didn’t think someone could turn that shade of white and still be alive.

“Your Majesty!”

“Your Majesty? What?” Now, Bilbo was confused.

‘Oak’ snorted indelicately. “Well, it’s not so much that I work here, rather, that I live here.” He stood up and bowed slightly. “Thorin ‘ _Oak_ enshield,’ at your service, Mr. Baggins.”

The smaller man looked poised for another round of ‘ _Oh my god,’_ so Thorin waved Gloin off, issuing orders in Khuzdul, “«Give us a minute, I’ll bring him to rejoin the tour before they leave.»”

Gloin could hardly believe his eyes, but now he knew why he recognized the chaperone outside. Thorin had a small yellowed drawing of him in a cheap black frame, hidden in a drawer in the royal bedchamber. Gloin had seen the sketch originally when Thorin finished it during the horrible Christmas after Thrain’s death. “«Yes, sir. Please bring him to the front exit.»”

The king nodded as Gloin departed back through the doorway from which he had entered. He looked back down at Bilbo, who after another minute, glanced up.

“Well, isn’t this a cock up, then?” Bilbo flopped back against the wall. “Of all the things I made up over the years, including the one where wild birds ate you in Hyde Park, I never imagined…not for one second…imagined that I spent the night with the exiled King of Erebor.”

Thorin rejoined him on the bench and chuckled ruefully. “No, you spent it with ‘Oak’ – truly. There was no one that I wanted to be less that night than the new King of Erebor.” He glanced down at his watch and sighed. “I have some business to attend to this evening, but maybe we can arrange to have dinner later this week? I promise to explain as best I can and you will have some time to accustom yourself to, well…” Thorin, usually never at a loss for words except for with Dís, found himself hesitating again. “…my identity.”

Bilbo nodded. “Yes, I would like that – very much, um, Your Majesty.” He stood up uncomfortably. 

Thorin frowned for a minute. “Just Thorin is fine.” He rose from the bench. “Follow me.”

The smaller man hurried to catch up with the king as he stalked down the hallway. “Thorin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I’m just confused. This is so unexpected. Frodo was just joking this morning that I might look for you on Facebook.”

Thorin thawed slightly. “I know…I just…never mind. We can discuss it later.” He stopped in front of a locked door marked in Khuzdul.

“What’s it say?” Bilbo asked.

“‘Open to the Public.’” Thorin stepped back. “This is where I leave you.” He entered a code into the keypad and the door buzzed. “Good night, Bilbo.”

“Thank you…I will see you later then?” Bilbo glanced away and then held Thorin’s suddenly shuttered gaze directly for a moment. “Yes, I _will_ see you later.” He pushed the door open and gave a tremulous smile to the king. 

He stepped into the same room where the tour had started earlier. Frodo ran over to him. “Uncle, where were you? We were worried!”

“Sorry, lad, just a detour. Everything is fine now.” Bilbo shrugged at Frodo and told a small white lie. “No big deal. I’ll tell you in the morning. Now let’s go.” He pushed him up to the group and out into the courtyard.

“Mr. Baggins!”

Bilbo turned around to see Gloin beaming behind him.

“Let me say, that it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance and I hope we’ll be seeing more of you in the future.”

The stunned man wasn’t really sure how to reply. “Perhaps. Thank you again, Mr. Gloin. Good night.” Pensively, he climbed into the last seat on the van. Bilbo refused to let anyone draw him into a conversation about his alternative tour, repeatedly promising answers in the morning. 

Watching the vans drive through the gate, Gloin pulled out his work phone and hit the second speed dial. “Dwalin, there’s been a _development_ , you might say. Meet me in the silver salon in fifteen minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't have internet for a week - my hotel apparently charges $10/night for Internet, and I'm cheap. I do have the next chapter done though, so it will go up on the evening of the 15th.


	6. The Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first full day of the trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience while I was gone this week. I hope you enjoy the next chapter.

Monday Morning

Gandalf reclined on the lobby couch watching the comings and goings of the hotel guests. Several of the students had already finished breakfast and were raiding the gift store. A few others remained in the restaurant with Professor Radegast and Mrs. Cotton. Bilbo and Frodo were conspicuously absent. 

Gloin had been extremely reticent last night after he returned from his hunt for Bilbo and Gandalf still wasn’t clear on what happened, only that Thorin had returned early from dinner and encountered the lost young man in the hall. As Merry and Pippin exited the restaurant, he beckoned them over.

"Ah, Mr. Brandybuck and Mr. Took, would you do me a favor and go to see what is holding up our Bagginses?”

“Yes, sir. We’ll go check right now.”

As the boys headed up the stairs, the professor’s mobile began to ring. The display screen read, ‘ _unknown caller_.’ He hit the answer button. “Gandalf speaking.”

"Professor Grey, good morning. This is Ori. I think we met once when you visited in the 1980s. _Yes, sir, I’m getting there._ I’m sorry, Professor, but His Majesty would like a word with you.”

Unsurprised at this turn of events, Gandalf responded dryly, “I await the king’s pleasure.”

Ori snickered into the phone and then was cut off. Gandalf heard a scuffle and then another voice came on the line.

“Gandalf, greetings. I hope your students enjoyed the tour of the palace last night.”

"Your Majesty, yes. The tour was a delight. Both Bain and Frar are to be complimented for their depth of knowledge. Gloin, too, was most helpful.”

“Excellent. I’m pleased to hear that.”

Gandalf waited for the king to continue but after a lengthy silence, he spoke instead, “Sir, was there something you required?” Another commotion occurred in the background that sounded like ‘ _ask him_ ’ in Khuzdul.

Thorin began, the strain clear in his voice, “Professor, perhaps, you might be able to do me a favor?”

As Gandalf registered the appeal, he heard, rather than saw Frodo roughhousing down the stairs with Merry and Pippin. A few seconds later, a still brooding Bilbo followed at a more sedate pace. _Hmm_ , this was certainly becoming more interesting by the moment. He turned his attention back to the conversation, “Of course, sir.”

Thorin coughed. “Well, it turns out that Mr. Baggins and I are old…acquaintances, you might say. If I arranged a special dinner for your students tonight at _The Windy Wyrm_ , could I possibly borrow Bilbo for the evening?”

The _Wyrm_ was the only Michelin-rated venue on the island.

“Are you certain? The Mayor’s office told me that they weren’t hosting large parties while they conducted additional renovations.” And, Gandalf suspected that Bilbo would be sad to miss it, but dining at the palace seemed to be fair compensation.

“Ori will work out the details. Do we have a deal, Professor?”

“Yes. I’ll coordinate with the other chaperones. Have Ori notify me with when and how I should divert Bilbo. And speaking of Bilbo, he just arrived at breakfast. Shall I give him your good wishes?” Gandalf needled the king, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“Professor, I expect your discretion on this matter,” Thorin replied icily.

“Of course. Good-bye.” Gandalf looked down at his phone as he realized the king hung up without a response. “ _Children_.” 

* * *

Bilbo had perked up noticeably after breakfast. He engaged with all of the other members of the group, highlighting the more comical bits of his detour through the palace last night, but carefully editing out _who_ exactly he had encountered in that back hallway. Frodo learned more of the story, but not that ‘Oak’ and the King of Erebor were the same person.

Dressed in their rattiest clothes, the students followed Bain, who had arrived at the end of breakfast, out of the hotel and on a short walk into a nearby residential area. They gathered around him. “Today and tomorrow, we will be working to support construction on several new homes. Everyone will be paired with an experienced, English-speaking, employee. Follow their orders. At lunch, we’ll return to the hotel so everyone can shower. Frar plans to join us this afternoon for lunch at a near-by café and a walking-tour of the old city.”

Bilbo plunged himself into the tasks, glad for a distraction from last night’s drama. He enjoyed hard work, even though he preferred performing it over the oven rather than on a construction site.

Before he knew it, Frodo was walking up to him and tugging on his arm. “Earth to Uncle Bilbo.”

“Sorry, Frodo, I was lost in thought.”

“We noticed. Come on, most of the group has already started back to the hotel.”

In front of them, they saw Gandalf talking quietly with an exceptionally dirty Professor Radegast.

“I wonder what those two are conspiring about now.”

Frodo grinned. “You missed it, Uncle. Professor G. came around mid-morning and told us that he made special dinner arrangements for us tonight. Some fancy restaurant. _The Whiny Wyrm_ , I think he called it.”

Bilbo playfully bumped into Frodo. “You know very well that it’s ‘ _Windy Wyrm_.’ We talked about it at home.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Frodo said with a straight face, while silently laughing.

“Now hurry up – I’m sure Sam has already taken all of the hot water.”

Frodo rushed into the hotel, while Bilbo caught up to Gandalf.

“So, I hear that we managed a reservation at the _Wyrm_.”

Gandalf nodded. “Miraculously, it appears that they will be able to arrange several tables for us. The students are thrilled.”

“I’m thrilled as well.” Bilbo responded. “If you will excuse me, Professor, I believe that I too require a shower.”

* * *

The local café to which Bain and Frar escorted the group was certainly colorful. Run by a kindly old widow, the restaurant had walls decorated with mining memorabilia. According to Frar, her husband had worked every day under the mountain until S.M.A.U.G. came, but he died while they were in exile of a broken heart. Unfortunately, despite the lovely atmosphere and service, the food was not up to the exacting standards of the members of the party who regularly dined at the Baggins residence. After washing down chewy sandwiches with watery tea, they were eager to be on their way.

The guides divided up the group into two smaller units to make it easier to hear the stories, and also to move through the narrow streets and gift shops. Bilbo and Frodo joined Frar’s group of Gandalf, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Lothiriel and Rosie (who was avoiding her mother).

The old town reminded Bilbo of the small village where his family had spent their summers. Frar began his account after the other group moved down a nearby alley. 

“Last night, we talked about Arkenstone Palace and touched on the history of the House of Durin. Today, we will hear more about the general history of Erebor, such as why Laketown became the capital in 2008 in place of Dale.” Frar stopped as the street opened up into a little square and motioned for the students to look around at the architecture. “Let’s find out who was listening last night and who wasn’t. What year was the palace destroyed?”

“1992, no, 1993!” Lothiriel called from behind Professor Grey.

“Very good, yes, during the invasion of S.M.A.U.G…”

“Mr. Frar?” Frodo interrupted. “I’m sorry, sir, but no one has ever said what S.M.A.U.G. stands for and I tried to look it up last night, but even Wikipedia only calls them by their initials.”

Frar shrugged uneasily. “We don’t spell it out. Ever. It’s a bad omen.”

This immediately subdued the students and even Professor Grey looked discomfited. 

Bilbo, ever quick thinking, noticed that one of the shops on the plaza was a bakery. “Time to discover the native pastries of Erebor. Everyone, let’s go.”

Moving forward en masse, they swarmed the shop, with Merry and Pippin leading the way, as always. Frar moved over to Bilbo. “Thank you, Mr. Baggins. I guess I should have expected that question today since no one mentioned it last night.”

“I think everyone was still too tired to think up difficult questions then.”

Frar concurred and then continued, “Before the standard palace tour, we have a handout that explains the history of S.M.A.U.G., why the invasion occurred, and directs people with questions to ask them back at the front desk.”

“But…”

“Please, Mr. Baggins, I would really prefer not to discuss it.”

“Very well. Let’s get the kids some treats and continue with the tour.”

* * *

The two groups met up back at the hotel with instructions from Professor Grey to clean up and dress their best for the evening. Ori had called Gandalf before lunch with instructions on how to divert Bilbo into the car that would pick him up. The professor put his plans in motion. 

“Bilbo, the chef at the _Wyrm_ is sending a car to pick you up at six this evening. He wants to speak with you before the students arrive. We’ll follow along in the shuttles right after you.”

Bilbo was flattered and not at all suspicious. “Great, I’ll be back down right away.”

After the smaller man walked up the stairs, Gandalf pulled out his mobile to call Ori back. “Mr. Baggins will be ready for the car at six.”

Ori laughed through the phone. “They’re sending Mr. Dwalin as the ‘driver.’ I think he and Mr. Gloin want to check Mr. Baggin’s suitability.”

“I see. I believe they will be pleasantly surprised.”

“I’ve never seen the king as ill at ease as he was this morning,” Ori revealed. “From what I gathered, the two of them ambushed him after his late meeting last night.”

Gandalf harrumphed. “I can’t say I’m surprised, Ori. I met Thorin several times as a lad and he only ever had his mind on one thing, even then…Erebor.” 

“You’re right, Professor, of course. One hundred percent.”

With that, the two men said farewell and Gandalf went off to his own bath.

* * *

Bilbo stepped out of the hotel, dressed to impress. He had heard that the _Wyrm_ ’s chef trained in St. Petersburg and Paris. A scowling bald man approached him.

“Mr. Baggins?”

“Yes, I am he.” Bilbo brushed at his jacket.

“This way please. The car is over here.”

Bilbo approached the black Mercedes S-class. “The chef has a very nice car.”

“Ch-? Right, the chef. Yes.” The man opened the door for Bilbo.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Dwalin.”

Bilbo smiled at the mono-syllabic man. After he settled in and they started down the street, he resumed speaking. “How long have you been a driver?” 

Dwalin didn’t answer.

“Um…what’s your favorite dish at the _Wyrm_?”

Silence.

Bilbo gave up and turned his attention outside the car. He knew that the restaurant was on the edge of Laketown, but this seemed to be the way they travelled last night.

“Mr. Dwalin? Are you sure you’re going the right way?”

The growl from the front seat guaranteed Bilbo’s silence for the reminder of the ride, until they made the final turn up a side driveway. He began again, “Mr. Dwalin, this is Arkenstone Palace.”

“Very observant, Mr. Baggins,” Dwalin finally replied.

The car was waved through the gate and Dwalin pulled up beside a small private entry. He parked the Mercedes and opened his door as Bilbo hopped out the other side. “Regretfully, Mr. Baggins, you will not be dining at the _Wyrm_ tonight, but I think you will find the cuisine here equally acceptable. His Majesty is waiting for you inside.” 


	7. King of Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Bilbo gives Thorin a piece of his mind, but food makes everything better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking a page from some other fics, I will be referring to 'elves' as 'tree-lovers'. Thank you again for your comments. Also, there are a few words of strong language in this chapter (probably still PG-13ish).

“Of all the high-handed…” Bilbo grumbled to himself, practically stomping though the door.

_Crash!_ The Englishman plowed into Ori who was waiting just inside the shadowy foyer. The two men sprawled onto the floor.

“Oh my, I’m sorry! Here, please, let me help you.” Bilbo assisted the secretary up from the ground.

“It’s okay, Mr. Baggins! Really. I shouldn’t have been standing that close to the door.” Ori dusted himself off and bowed politely to the other man. “My name is Ori, I am King Thorin’s Private Secretary. It is an honor to meet you.”

“Thank you, and please, just call me Bilbo.”

Ori smiled. “Of course. May I take your coat? Do you need anything else? If not, His Majesty is waiting for you in the dining room.”

Even after nearly twenty-four hours, Bilbo did not believe this wasn’t all a dream brought on by too much Earl Grey and white chocolate bread pudding before bed. The opulence of the foyer nearly overwhelmed him, but as he recalled Thorin’s machinations to get him here, his ire returned. Bilbo looked over at the enthusiastic young man and decided to save his annoyance for the one who deserved it. “Thank you again, Ori. Here is my coat. Please, lead on to the dining room.”

After passing through another labyrinth of hallways, the secretary stopped in front of a pair of intricate jewel-inlaid doors. He knocked twice and pushed them open. “Your Majesty, may I present Mr. Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo moved into the dining room, as Ori gently pulled the door closed behind him. Thorin stood before the windows on the far side of the room, elegantly dressed in black. Even as Bilbo conceded that he looked incredibly regal, the younger man was still annoyed. He stalked across the room while speaking, “Thorin Oakenshield! What happened to ‘maybe dinner, later this week’? What happened to ‘become accustomed to the idea’? I do not appreciate being spirited away under false pretenses!”

Thorin looked surprised at Bilbo’s intense reaction. Gloin and Dwalin, as well as Ori (once informed about the prior night’s events) had assured him this was a brilliant plan. _Clearly not_. Next time, he would talk to Balin, who undoubtedly had more sense than the other three of them put together. But, Thorin didn’t apologize, _ever_ , so he just shrugged. “It’s later this week.”

Bilbo stopped short with a startled laugh and decided to take a different route. “Very well. Let’s start over then.” He stepped back and cleared his throat. “Hello, my name is Bilbo Baggins. I am originally from England, but now I am a baker in Boston, Massachusetts and the guardian to my eighteen-year-old nephew, Frodo.” He held out his hand.

Thorin accepted the olive branch and shook Bilbo’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Bilbo. My name is Thorin, son of Thrain. I am King of Erebor and I have two young sister-sons, er nephews, as well, but they live with their mother in London. Will you join me for dinner?”

Pleased that his gambit worked, Bilbo readily agreed. “I can’t wait to see what Bombur has prepared.”

“He’s probably outdone himself. I’m sure Ori talked his ear off every time he went down to the kitchens.” Thorin rang the bell on the sideboard and a footman promptly appeared. The king directed him in Khuzdul to begin serving dinner.

Bilbo waited for the king to choose a seat at the table before joining him. He had so many questions, he wasn’t sure where to start. “Thorin, I-”

“Bilbo, I-”

They both broke off and looked at each other. Bilbo stifled a giggle. “You first, Thorin.”

“I want to explain but I’m not sure where to begin.”

Bilbo laughed harder. “I was just thinking the same thing. I don’t even know where to start asking questions. I confess my knowledge about Erebor is limited to the brochures Gandalf provided me, what Frodo googled last night, and the two tours we’ve had since arriving.”

The footman returned, offering the king a bottle of wine to inspect. Thorin indicated that it was acceptable and the servant poured two glasses of the pinot grigio.

Once they were alone again, Thorin picked up the conversation, “You didn’t google me?”

“No. I wanted to hear it from you, not _Middle-aged and Royal_ or whatever that dreck the kids are reading these days.”

Thorin let out a bark of his own laughter. “Fair enough.”

Their discussion was once again interrupted by the footman, with an assistant this time. The two servants presented a light butternut squash soup with scallops. 

Deeper conversation was tabled by mutual agreement and Bilbo began with tales from the school trip (including the cookie poker game).

“That sounds exactly like something Fíli and Kíli would do,” Thorin told Bilbo. “Those rascals are going to be the death of me.” He explained that he called them home for Fíli’s term break because of their indiscretions.

“No worse than some of the things most youngsters get up to these days.” Bilbo replied, conciliatory.

“It’s not on the cover of every magazine around the world though if your young Frodo punches a classmate.”

Bilbo acceded that point as the next course arrived, a lovely fish-cake topped with fresh parsley. “Thorin, this is amazing!” He practically moaned with pleasure at the flavors in his mouth.

“I’m sure that Bombur will be pleased to hear that,” the king replied. “I do have one easy question. How did you end up in Boston?”

Finishing his fish-cake, Bilbo launched into the story of the midnight phone call and his cousins’ deaths. “I realized I couldn’t make Frodo move back to England with me, so I just moved my life to the States.” 

The two men talked of other inconsequential things (such as the merits of the Spurs versus Arsenal) while the remaining courses were served. 

Bilbo asked about dessert.

“I wouldn’t have brought you here without the promise of dessert, although I fear later this week, Bombur will corner you for all of your secrets. Let’s retire to my private library.” Thorin signaled to the remaining footman to have the last course delivered there.

The king led Bilbo out another door and through another hall. The door to this library was plain, unlike the large one the younger man had seen during the tour the previous evening. Inside, only a few hundred books lined the wall and a small fire crackled away merrily in the fireplace. 

Bilbo convinced Thorin to join him on the soft rug on the floor after the dessert and port were delivered.

“So…let’s start at the beginning.” Bilbo decided to take the lead, as Thorin seemed distant in the last few minutes.

Abruptly, Thorin leaned forward and placed a single kiss on Bilbo’s cheek. 

“Well, that is certainly the beginning!” Bilbo blushed. Although he had been about the same age Frodo was now when he first met Thorin, the tale had been carefully edited to leave out the less than savory beginning of that night.

* * *

_December 1995 – A private club just off Clerkenwell Road, London_

Bilbo had been steadily drinking all evening. Two of his culinary school chums convinced him to take a break from revision and join them at their new favorite venue. Unfortunately, he had long since grown bored of their company. As he glanced around the place, he spied a striking bloke nursing a very expensive scotch in the corner. Bilbo summoned the bartender over and asked, “What’s his story?”

“‘e’s been here the last two nights. Comes in, drinks a single glass of scotch, goes ‘ome. ‘asn’t spoken to no-one.” 

The slightly drunk young man decided that this was something that needed to be remedied immediately, _if not sooner_! Bilbo resolutely moved around the bar, entirely sure of himself. As he reached the dark-haired man, he caught his foot on the edge of a bar-stool. Stumbling forward, he fell into the man and, taking advantage of the unexpected opportunity, placed a large sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Bilbo reflected later that he was lucky to not have been punched in the face. Instead, the man simply stared at him, apparently shocked that anyone had dared to accost him.

“My name’s Bill…” Bilbo slurred the second half of his name. “You look like you need a friend.”

The blue-eyed man took another sip of scotch and shrugged slightly as Bilbo hopped up on the neighboring barstool.

“What’s your name? May I buy you another drink? Do you like biscuits?” A slightly drunk Bilbo was a very talkative one.

After first glancing around the club, the man finally replied, “T-er, Oak. My name is Oak.” His English was faintly accented. “And no, I don’t need another drink and no again, I don’t really like biscuits.”

Bilbo was horrified. “How can you not like biscuits?”

Oak paused for a moment, “Wait, do you mean the American kind or the English kind?”

“The English, of course!”

“Oh, in that case, yes, I do. The words confuse me sometimes.”

Bilbo sighed, relieved to hear that, because he wasn’t sure he could be friends with someone who didn’t like biscuits. “Would you like to come back to my flat? I can bake you some. Better than sitting here all night. I promise.”

Oak looked pensive for a moment. “I suppose.” He tossed a few pounds on the bar and followed Bilbo out into the night.

During the walk back to the flat, Bilbo started to sober up and he realized that he had invited a complete stranger home with him. Stopping outside the front door of the building, he spoke quickly, “I really did mean for biscuits or whatever else you might like to eat. I’m not in the habit of picking up strange blokes at the bar.” 

The other man flushed. “I can’t say that I normally follow strangers home from them either.”

_End Flashback_

* * *

In fact, before that night, Thorin had never gone anywhere with a man. Under the watchful gaze of his grandfather and his father, Thorin kept his eyes carefully on the ladies and never allowed a single whisper that that might not be his preference. Back then, Dwalin knew and so did Gloin and his sister, but no one else. Even now, it was a closely guarded secret at the palace.

“I appreciate what you did that night, Bilbo. My father was never the same after we went into exile. He’d been in decline for a few months, so I managed to arrive before it happened.” Thorin gazed into the fireplace. He continued, “I went to the club that first night right after he died. I couldn’t bear the sad looks and whispers another moment. The next day, I decided to do the same thing. It was easier to keep things quiet back then, not so many paparazzi lingering on every corner. And, who cared about an exiled king? Anyway, drinking numbed the loss, at least for a little while.” 

Bilbo placed a comforting hand on Thorin’s shoulder. “I’m very sorry about your loss.”

The king offered Bilbo a faint smile. Bilbo started to lean forward…

_Slam!_ The door flung open. “«Uncle Thorin!»” Two young men about Frodo’s age tumbled through the entryway, calling out in English-accented Khuzdul. They stopped dead at the sight of the king sitting so close to Bilbo.

Thorin snapped back at them, but Bilbo just laughed. Frodo always knew the most inopportune moment as well. 

“You must be Fíli and Kíli? My name is Bilbo Baggins.” The smaller man stood up and moved across the library.

The two young men bowed in unison. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Boggins!”

The king just shook his head. “Ori told me you weren’t arriving until tomorrow.”

Fíli looked contrite, but Kíli gave the king a defiant stare over the couch. “We changed our flight so we could talk to you _before_ tomorrow.”

That sounded ominous to Bilbo.

“Oh?” Thorin got up and crossed his arms.

“«Not in front of Uncle’s guest!»” Kíli whispered.

“«Everyone’s going to know tomorrow anyway.»” Fíli replied.

“Don’t be rude.” Thorin now stood next to Bilbo.

Fíli took a deep breath. “Kíli hit Prince Legolas at the club the other week because he thought the tree-lover was going to propose to Morgana. He even showed Kíli the Rhovanion diamond.”

Kíli continued, “Turns out he just wanted to upset me but now the ring is missing.”

“We think it was taken by G.O.L.L.U.M. to stir up enmity between you and King Thranduil,” Fíli finished, all in one breath.

Bilbo looked back and forth at the interplay between the two young men. “What’s G.O.L.L.U.M.?”

“It’s a splinter-group from the remains of S.M.A.U.G.,” Thorin answered

Bilbo figured this was as good a time as any to ask the question again, “Will you tell me what it stands for? Frodo asked Frar and he went spare.”

Kíli growled, “Dickless Asshats who Rape Children and Murder Women in the Street.”

Thorin threw up his hands. “Out! Both of you! We’ll talk about this in the morning. Tell Ori to arrange a meeting with Balin and Dwalin.”

The two princes hastily exited the room, no longer willing to face their uncle’s wrath.

Turning to Bilbo, Thorin sighed. “I think the full tale of S.M.A.U.G. will have to wait for another time. I need to send you home before I violate Gandalf’s curfew.”

Bilbo agreed regretfully. “Thank you, Thorin. I had a wonderful evening.” He chastely kissed the king on the cheek, allowing the other man to pull him into a tight bear-hug. When he could breathe again, he asked, “Erm, who’s going to drive me back to the hotel?”

Thorin looked perplexed. Dwalin and Gloin had clearly not thought out their plan this far. He certainly didn’t want to just dump Bilbo off with Ori, who was already dealing with Hurricanes Fíli and Kíli. He went over to the phone on the small side-table and hit the intercom.

An animated voice came on the line, “«Arkenstone Palace switchboard, how may I direct your call?»”

Looking back at Bilbo, Thorin made his decision on impulse. “«It’s Thorin. Give me the on-duty security manager.»”

“«One moment, Your Majesty.»”

The line buzzed. “«Security. Loni speaking.»” 

Bilbo had wandered over to one of the bookcases and was peering through the titles.

“«Loni, it’s Thorin. I need a car, no driver.»”

“«But, Your Majesty, there’s nothing on the schedule.»”

“«I know. I won’t be staying anywhere. I’m just going to drive a guest back to his hotel.»”

“«Very well, sir. I’ll have the car waiting at the side entrance in ten minutes.»” 

Thorin shut off the intercom. “Come.”

Bilbo followed the king back through the palace corridors. “My coat!”

“Ori will have left it in the foyer,” Thorin said. 

As they got to the door, the missing jacket was hanging conveniently on a hook. Thorin led them outside, where a silvery Mercedes SL idled. 

A security guard bowed smartly to the king and handed him a cell phone. “«We’ll be standing by, sir.»” 

Suddenly realizing what was going on, Bilbo laughed. “You think you’re so clever, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Smiling ruefully, Thorin got into the driver’s seat. “Let’s go, Bilbo or else Gandalf’s going to revoke my visiting privileges.”


	8. A New Frontier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Language learning and hints of a plot (but only hints).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, the MPAA allows the use of a single F-word in PG-13 movies. I'm taking advantage of that here.

Tuesday Morning

Thorin accepted the coffee from Ori and scowled at his nephews. He supposed he should be grateful that he hadn’t had an angry call from Thranduil yet. Balin and Dwalin sat at the table in his office, while Fíli and Kíli huddled together on the small couch. They had already gone over the events in London once, but Dwalin remained unhappy with the lack of details.

Finally, Kíli cracked. “«Can I explain in English?»”

Another closely kept secret of the royal family was the fact that the heir and spare spoke better English than Khuzdul. Both were born in London; Fíli right before the fall of Erebor and Kíli right after. They spoke Khuzdul when it suited them (mainly to exclude other people, such as Bilbo the night before) but not with any great fluency.

Dwalin snarled, “What are they teaching you in that forsaken country?”

Fíli jumped to his brother’s defense, arguing, “It’s not his fault.”

“No, it’s mine,” Thorin sighed. “I should have made sure you had a Khuzdul tutor much sooner, but that’s neither here nor there at the moment. What is important is that we have answers for Thranduil and the media. Begin again.”

“I went to the club with some friends. After about an hour, Legolas turns up with his fellow tree-lovers. We’d both had a few drinks and everything was fine. Then he starts on Fíli and Morgana, saying he’s going to get the drop on Fíli. That’s when he flashes the Rhovanion diamond around.” Kíli slouched back against the couch. “I know Fíli and Morgana don’t _really_ have an understanding but it still irked me…so I punched him…” he trailed off.

“And then the fight started?” Balin asked.

“Yes, he hit me back and some of our friends started scuffling, too.”

“When did Legolas realize the ring was missing?” Thorin remained unclear on this point.

“It was later that night. He texted Gimli, who called me.”

Gloin’s son, Gimli, had somehow managed to overcome the years of enmity between the peoples of Erebor and Rhovanion. During the few months that Thorin had been stuck in Rhovanion’s capital, Esgaroth, Gloin and his family had lived there too, allowing Gimli and Legolas to strike up an unlikely friendship. Since the Ereborians reclaimed their island, the two had stayed in touch, despite the five year age difference. 

Kíli finished, “Gimli told me Legolas is pissed about the fight, but doesn’t blame me for the loss of the ring.”

“Thranduil will though. Why did Legolas even have the ring?” Dwalin stood up and started pacing.

Kíli shrugged. “Gimli didn’t say.”

The three older men exchanged glances. There was clearly more going on here than a squabble between the boys.

Balin posed the final questions, “Why do you suspect G.O.L.L.U.M.? And, who leaked this to the media?”

Kíli looked sadly at his brother. “The media only knows the ring was stolen after the fight…some of my friends talked over the weekend…but G.O.L.L.U.M., I’m sorry, Fíli, you have to tell them.”

Fíli looked at his uncle. “It took a few days, but I’ve received threats...and that’s really why we came back sooner.”

Everyone in the room froze.

“What about your mother? Did you tell her?” Balin paled.

“No…but-”

“«Fuck. You foolish boys.»” Thorin turned to Ori, who remained unobtrusively in the corner. “«Get Gloin here now and call Dís’s security. Tell them to raise their alert level.»”

“Uncle, don’t you think…” Kíli started.

“You think a threat from G.O.L.L.U.M. is a joke? You know nothing.” Thorin stormed out of the  room behind Ori.

The two princes looked at their uncle’s advisors. Dwalin looked angry while Balin appeared preoccupied.

“Don’t mind him, lads. Thorin takes it to heart when someone threatens his family or his kingdom,” Balin instructed. “Dwalin, wait for Gloin and get started on the forensics of Fíli’s emails. Make sure you interview Gimli as well. I’ll go talk to Thorin.”

* * *

Unaware of the intensifying crisis at the palace, Bilbo moved cheerfully through the morning. Gandalf had deftly explained away his absence at dinner, with only Frodo knowing that Bilbo had gone to meet his old acquaintance. The last few minutes in the car with Thorin had been quiet but meaningful, broken only by the realization of how very late it was. Now, he was especially eager to take part in the afternoon language class. He hoped to be able to show off his new skills to Thorin the next time they met.

The students were more focused on the second part of the afternoon when they would have an extended period of free time. Most of them planned to check out the beach, but a few wanted to do some more exploring around the city.

Bain met them in a small conference room in the hotel. “Today, I’m going to do a basic lesson. For those of you who want to continue, we will have an optional conversational Khuzdul class several more times throughout the trip.”

He wrote a flurry of runes on the edge of the board. “This is the Khuzdul alphabet. There are fifty cirth or letters. Don’t worry about learning them right now.” In the middle of the board he wrote out several words and phrases, pairing them with English: ‘Hello’, ‘Hi’, ‘Good-bye’, ‘What is your name’, ‘My name is…’, ‘Please’, and ‘Thank you’. “Let’s start at the top. Repeat after me, «Hello».”

Everyone practiced valiantly for the next hour.  After a few more important phrases, including, ‘where is the bathroom?’, Bain started taking requests. ‘Where is the bakery?’ was a clear winner along with ‘Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.’ The teenagers enthusiastically took notes on their own favorite expressions.

When the lesson ended, everyone rushed out to enjoy their break, followed by admonishments from Professor Grey to stay in touch and out of trouble. 

After most of the room had cleared, Bilbo approached the mayor’s son. “Bain, would you do a few other words for me?”

“Of course, Bilbo.” He pulled his marker back out of the bag and erased part of the board.

“I guess I’d call it, ‘words related to the royal family’ – so ‘king’, ‘prince’, ‘Your Majesty’, things like that.”

Bain scribbled out those and a few others, practicing with Bilbo for a few more minutes and helping the Englishman take notes. The two men then finished cleaning up the conference room and wandered back to the lobby to find Gandalf having an intense discussion on his mobile. Just as they approached, he hung up. 

“Ah, Bilbo, I was just talking to a friend of a friend of yours, who wondered if you might be available for a little ‘calming’ this afternoon.” Gandalf looked serious as he said this, given the nature of the phone call, but he was secretly pleased for the older Mr. Baggins.

Bain quickly took his leave and Bilbo pressed for more details, “What do you mean ‘calming’?”

Gandalf drew Bilbo into an alcove off of the main lobby. “Too many ears out there…but it seems that there has been an upset with Thorin’s nephews and he has been infuriated all day. Gloin hoped that you might act as a diversion to keep the king from strangling them or someone else on the staff.”

Bilbo had seen flashes of the Durin temper during their previous encounters and figured that it was a fearsome sight to behold. “I need an hour…and a stocked kitchen.”

The professor nodded and started to smile, “I’m sure Ori will be able to organize that with Bombur. Give me your mobile.” Gandalf held out his hand.

Bilbo passed it off, allowing him to enter both Ori and Gloin’s numbers. “As I’m sure you discovered last night, Thorin doesn’t have a mobile.”

“I did notice that…the guard that shadowed us back to the hotel handed one to him before we left.”

“Just another security measure, especially after all the hacking a few years ago. Nasty business. Anyway, off you go, m’ boy. Knock ’em dead.”

Bilbo took the phone back and waited until Gandalf strolled back into the main lobby. He immediately dialed Ori.

“«Hello. This is Ori speaking.»”

“Erm…Ori? It’s Bilbo.” He sort of understood the hello.

“Oh, Mr. Baggins, thank goodness you’ve called.” Ori sounded relieved. “Mr. Gloin told me he was ringing Professor Grey. The king is very angry and even told King Thranduil that he was a witless idiot! And then he made Kíli cry!” He paused and mumbled the last part, “…And me too, but that was later.”

Bilbo frowned. This was no good at all. “Ori, if you arrange a ride to the palace for me and ask Bombur if I can borrow the kitchen for an hour, I’ll see if I might calm Thorin’s temper.” Scones to sooth the savage beast seemed about right.

“Thank you, thank you, Mr. Baggins-”

“It’s still just Bilbo, Ori.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll call you with the name of your driver in a few minutes.”

* * *

Ori met Bilbo outside the same side door that he had arrived at the prior evening. The secretary quickly escorted him to down to the kitchen, with the news that Bombur was visiting his brother and his cousin at the brewery today. Mim, the assistant chef,  was on duty and although he only spoke a little English, he understood it fairly well. After a hasty introduction, Ori headed back upstairs with orders to return in an hour. Bilbo turned to Bombur’s assistant, gave him the list of necessary ingredients and asked him to preheat the oven. Using an unfamiliar oven was always a dicey proposition, but Bilbo simply planned to be extra vigilant. 

When everything was set up on the table, he set the assistant chef to work on organizing the raspberries, chocolate chips and orange zest while he prepped the flour. Bilbo efficiently cut the cold butter into the flour mixture, added the other three ingredients, and then poured in the buttermilk and his ‘secret’ ingredient.  He gently worked the dough, slowly forming it into a round disk and then cut it into wedges with a sharp knife. Mim loaded the raw scones onto the baking sheet and glazed them with an egg white and sugar solution. Finally, they were slipped into the oven with thirty minutes to spare.

Bilbo smiled at the assistant. “Thank you for your help. They should be done just before Ori gets back, which will allow them to cool on the trip to…wherever Thorin is I guess.”

“The king is in his office in the day, but…” Mim trailed off looking for the words in English and shrugged. “Ori knows.”

Once a few more minutes passed, Bilbo started watching the scones to make sure they were cooking evenly. It looked like they were going to be perfect. Suddenly, Ori came down the stairs.

“Mr. Bilbo! Are you done yet? Mr. Dwalin has started yelling at the king.”

Bilbo stifled a laugh. Things were certainly more thrilling around here than they were at home. “Two minutes, Ori. I can plate them and let them cool while we walk.”

The young man bounced impatiently, checking his phone every few seconds. “Please hurry.”

The assistant chef placed a fancy tray on the counter and passed Bilbo a pair of mitts. In order to spare Ori his imminent heart attack, Bilbo yanked the oven open and pulled out the baking sheet. He expertly positioned the scones on the tray and turned to Ori. “Let’s go.”


	9. Nobody Wants to Be Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of silliness...and scones.

Ori practically dragged Bilbo through the palace, ducking through empty corridors and down dark halls.

“Slow down, Ori!” Bilbo finally exclaimed. “I’m going to drop the scones.”

The secretary stopped dead in front him. “It’s okay, sir. We’ve arrived.”

Bilbo looked around and realized that he had been in this hall the first night.

“The king’s sitting room is just around here.” Ori pointed to the left.

As they turned the corner, they could hear two raised voices arguing in Khuzdul. _Crash!_

“They started right before I left. I think Mr. Dwalin is trying to tire the king out so he can rest. It’s been such an awful day, Mr. Bilbo,” Ori grimaced and knocked on the door. He looked pained at the shouted response. “The king just told me to go away…in a rather creative fashion.”

Bilbo shook his head. Sometimes it seemed as though Thorin liked to be stubborn for the pure sake of being stubborn. “I hereby relieve you of your duty, Ori. I’ll take it from here…er, wait, how do you say ‘scones’ in Khuzdul?” He practiced the word Ori gave him under his breath and then balanced the tray in his left hand, pushing the door open with his right.

Inside the room, a red-faced Dwalin was scooping up the remains of what _might_ have been a rather ugly heirloom vase at one time, while Thorin sat on a nearby couch with a thunderous look, arms crossed.

What Bilbo then thought he said to the king was: “«Your Majesty, scones.»” What he actually said was, “«Your Sparkling, pillows.»”

Dwalin snorted and Ori giggled from the hallway. 

Thorin blinked. “What?” It was unclear whether he was more surprised to see Bilbo or by what he said. 

“«Pillows.» Didn’t I say it right?” Bilbo looked accusingly back at Ori.

“«Scones!»” Ori half-whispered back.

“That’s what I said…«pillows.»”

Even Thorin gave a choked laugh at that point. He stood up and walked over to the door. “That will be all, Ori. You are dismissed for the evening.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ori gave a half-bow and scurried down the hallway.

By this time, Dwalin had finished cleaning up the vase and approached Bilbo. “So, these are the magical…«pillows?»”

Bilbo huffed indignantly, “Now, you’re just making fun.” 

“Yes.” Thorin replied. “And they’re all mine. I’ve dreamed of these scones for more than fifteen years.” He reached out to take the tray from Bilbo.

“No. They are for you to share with Dwalin. Ori told me you two were having a disagreement.”

The two Ereborians exchanged glances and Thorin shook his head discretely at Dwalin. The matter of G.O.L.L.U.M. and S.M.A.U.G. would be tabled for the moment.

“Very well,” Thorin agreed. Bilbo willingly handed the tray over to the king who placed it on a low coffee table in front of the couch.

Dwalin slid open one of the panels in the wall to reveal a small wet bar. “Tea? Soda? Beer?”

“You can’t have beer with scones,” Bilbo protested.

The other man huffed and pulled out a bottle of _Hidden Door_ Hefeweizen. “My prince?”

“Tea is fine, Dwalin.” Thorin sat on the couch and indicated that Bilbo should join him, while Dwalin filled the tea pot from the instant hot water faucet.

The scones had cooled to almost the perfect temperature.

“So I see you’ve started taking lessons in Khuzdul?” Thorin asked, innocently.

“And now _you’re_ making fun. Would you like me take these scones back to Ori?” Bilbo responded with a playful threat.

Thorin made as though to grab the tray back but Bilbo pulled it away. Dwalin sat down in the large leather chair across from them, placing the tea set on the table and popping the top off of his beer. Then, he snagged a scone before the other two could start to squabble.

“Hey!” They both exclaimed.

Dwalin shrugged. “You sleep, you weep.”

This time, Bilbo laughed. “It’s ‘you snooze, you lose’.”

“Whatever.” 

“But yes, the mayor’s son, Bain, gave the students a few short lessons today at the hotel. After the class, I asked him for some additional words.” Bilbo blushed. “Clearly I need to work on my pronunciation. What did I say, by the way?”

The king smiled, starting to relax for the first time since the morning. “Your Sparkling, pillows.”

“Pillows? Really? And, sparkling?” Bilbo was baffled. “Say it again, the right way, please.”

“«Your Majesty, scones.»” Thorin repeated back to him.

Bilbo looked at Dwalin. “Now you.”

Dwalin humored the crazy Englishman for Thorin's sake. “«Your Majesty, scones.»”

“I can hear the difference…but I can’t get my tongue…” Bilbo sighed. “I guess it’s going to take some work.”

The three men happily turned to their scones and tea (beer) and ate in silence for a few minutes. 

Dwalin stood up and chugged the last of his beer, burping loudly. “’s good, Mr. Baggins. I can see why Thorin forswore all other pastries of this nature.”

“Um, well, thank you.” 

“Thorin, by your leave, I’m going to find Gloin to see if there have been any updates. I’ll check in with you later this evening?” Dwalin brushed the crumbs off his shirt.

“Go. Let me know if anything changes.”

Dwalin inclined his head and quit the room.

Despite the fact that the king seemed more calm than when he first arrived, Bilbo could tell that Thorin was still tense. He offered him another scone, which Thorin started munching on eagerly. “So, Ori told me there was a problem today?”

“Ori needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.”

“Thorin!”

“The matter with Fíli and Kíli was more serious than they let on yesterday when you met them. There is now on-going concern about their security in London. My sister was also unaware of exactly what had transpired, potentially endangering her, too.”

“Oh, no. That’s terrible.” 

“Yes, it is. But, Gloin and Dwalin have told me to stay out of it and let them do their jobs, so for the moment, I’m trying not to interfere.” Thorin ate the last bite of scone and contemplated the remaining four on the plate.

“No, you won’t have room for your dinner otherwise. I’ll have Bombur’s assistant wrap them up and you can eat them tomorrow.”

Bilbo bewildered Thorin again. No one told him he wasn’t allowed to have something. “I don’t want dinner, I want another scone.”

“Scones are not dinner.” Bilbo put his foot down. He picked up the tray and made it as far as the door before realizing he had no idea how to get back to the kitchen. He turned sheepishly back to the king. “Um…kitchen?”

Thorin glowered but he wasn’t above bargaining. “I will trade you directions to the kitchen for another scone right now.”

“Directions to the kitchen now, with another scone after dinner,” Bilbo countered.

“Acceptable.” The king left the couch. “This way.”

Bilbo was once again left to carry the tray and chase a quickly striding Ereborian down the palace hall. “I need a map.”

Thorin smirked, “You’ll get used to it.”

When they reached the kitchen, the assistant chef was singing loudly while chopping vegetables.

“Excuse me?” Bilbo called.

Mim jumped. “Mr. Baggins!” He turned around and saw the king lingering in the doorway. “«Your Majesty!»” He started babbling in Khuzdul, bowing clumsily.

Thorin responded and gestured at Bilbo. Mim took the tray and bowed again.

“Thank you.” Bilbo smiled at the clearly nervous assistant.

“You are welcome, Mr. Baggins. Next time, Mr. Bombur is here. We cook…many food…” the assistant trailed off again, eyeing the king warily.

“Of course. It will be my pleasure.” Bilbo looked over at Thorin who was plainly anxious to depart. “I will see you later.” He followed the king back up the stairs. “What was he singing? It seemed familiar.”

Thorin hummed a few lines. “I sang it that night in your flat after you plied me with your cheap gin and celestial scones. I think I translated a bit for you. _Fiery mountain beneath the moon, words unspoken, we’ll be there soon._ It was the song of the House of Durin in exile.”

“I remembered it Sunday night when we were in the gallery; I saw that one landscape of the mountain.” Bilbo paused. “And I did not ‘ply you.’ It was by mutual agreement.”

“I think you and I remember the rest of the evening very differently.” The king glanced at Bilbo.

“Oh?” The younger man decided to press his advantage. “Would you care to resolve this matter over dinner?”

“Yes. But not here, I’ve been trapped inside all day. Bombur’s assistant really hasn’t made much anyway. I had originally planned to spend the entire day at the mountain to conduct some business related to the mines.”

They arrived back in the same hallway from earlier. Thorin approached a different door, this one with a keypad, and deftly entered the code. Bilbo stopped in the entryway once he realized it was the king’s bedchamber. He peered around, examining the masculine but sumptuous furnishings. It was decorated primarily in greys with royal blue and black accents.

Thorin tied back his hair and pulled a dark-colored light-weight cloak from the wardrobe. He hit the intercom on the phone on the nightstand.

“«Arkenstone Palace switchboard, how may I direct your call?»”

“«It’s Thorin. Is Loni still on duty?»”

“«Yes, Your Majesty. One moment.»” 

The line buzzed and a new voice came on. “«Loni speaking.»”

“«Loni, it’s Thorin. I want to go to Café Eä with a guest.»”

“«Yes, sir. I’ll have someone meet you at the side gate.»”

The king turned off the intercom, realizing that Bilbo was still loitering in the doorway.

“There’s a small café just down the block from the palace, if that is acceptable?” Thorin pulled the cloak over his shoulders and grabbed his sunglasses from the dresser. 

Bilbo agreed and followed Thorin back down the hall. The two remained quiet, each lost in their own thoughts until they reached the side pedestrian gate. As the king put on his sunglasses and pulled up the hood of his cloak, the same bodyguard that had followed them back to the hotel the previous evening approached. After a slight bow, he informed Thorin that the café was expecting them and fell into step several meters behind the other two men.

At the restaurant, the bodyguard stayed outside as the maître d’ led them to a table in the back, concealed by plants and a decorative three panel divider. Thorin placed his cloak on a hook behind the table and removed his shades. 

Bilbo hung back awkwardly. Despite their fairly casual interactions at the palace, he was unsure how to behave in public with the king. Before he could make a decision though, Thorin stepped over and pulled out a chair.

“Sit.”

Bilbo chuckled, “Yes, sir.”

“Smart arse.” Thorin seated himself across the table.

“Impertinent wretch?” Bilbo retorted.

“That too.”

The waiter hesitantly approached the two bantering men. “«Your Majesty? May I get you drinks?»”

“Bilbo, a drink?”

“How about some of that _Hidden Door_ beer that Dwalin was drinking?”

“«Two dunkles and a cheese plate,»” the king told the waiter.

“«Yes, sir.»” With a quick bow, he hurried away.

Thorin looked over at Bilbo, “I also ordered us an appetizer.”

“Great.” Bilbo looked down at the menu. “I don’t suppose they have an English-version?”

“No. This is definitely a locals-only kind of place. What would you like?”

“Fish and chips?”

Thorin flipped through the menu. “They do a decent fish sandwich.” 

“That works.” 

The waiter returned with the beer and took their orders.

After he left, Bilbo leaned forward. “Now…about this accusation of cheap gin. I’ll have you know, that was the finest cheap gin an Englishman could buy.”

* * *

_Flashback_

Bilbo led Oak up the stairs to his small flat. “Would you like something else to drink? Sorry, I don’t have any hundred year old scotch. I could make you a gin and tonic.”

“That would be acceptable.” Oak sat gingerly at Bilbo’s kitchen table.

Bilbo whipped up a version with extra gin, placing it in front of his guest. “And now, scones I think!”

Oak watched with amazement as Bilbo expertly danced around the kitchen, throwing ingredients together and preparing the scones. Once they went into the oven, Bilbo made his guest another gin and tonic as well as one for himself. They nursed their beverages until the oven buzzed. 

“The scones will need to cool for a few minutes. Here let me get you an’ther drink.” Bilbo plated the scones and refreshed their glasses. He carried them into the living room and waved Oak over to the couch.

After eagerly consuming the first scone, Oak looked melancholy.

Bilbo, slightly tipsy again, asked what was wrong.

Oak explained that his father had recently died and things weren’t going well for his family.

In response, Bilbo poured them more drinks and asked if there was anything he could do.

The other man shook his head and went over to look out the dark window. He started humming under his breath.

“What’s that?”

“Just a song…”

_End Flashback_

* * *

Bilbo reached across the table and hesitantly took Thorin’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was a very long time ago.” Thorin shook off the memory of that night and pulled his hand back. He took a deep swallow of his beer just as the waiter returned with the appetizer. The king took advantage of the opportunity to change the subject by picking up a cracker and explaining to Bilbo the different kinds of local cheeses and cured meats on the plate.

The sound of a clearing throat disturbed them a few minutes later. A chagrined-looking bodyguard stood there with a cell phone. “«I’m sorry, sir. Lord Balin is on the phone. You are needed immediately back at the palace for a video conference with King Thranduil.»”

Thorin scowled. “«Damn.»” He turned to Bilbo, continuing in English, “I need to return to Arkenstone. There’s an urgent call from Thranduil.”

Sighing, Bilbo nodded. “Okay. I understand. I’ll talk to you later then?”

“Yes. Finish eating.” Thorin pulled his cloak on and replaced his sunglasses. “I’ll take care of dinner.” 

The bodyguard motioned to the waiter as they left, explaining that the king had urgent business and that they should accommodate Mr. Baggins to the best of their ability, including summoning a car to return him to his hotel.

Left behind, Bilbo picked at his food and wondered what exactly he thought he was doing.


	10. When I'm Up, I Can't Get Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beer and mischief!

Bilbo sleep-walked through Wednesday. Even Frodo’s gentle cajoling and the wonders of the history museum did not bring him around. He tried to catch the news to see if there was any reporting about Thorin and the princes, but unfortunately, everything was in Khuzdul. Once or twice Bilbo thought about calling Ori, but each time he pulled up the contact on his mobile, he chickened out.

By Thursday morning though, he had recovered and was once more chatting with the rest of the members of their group. If Thorin couldn’t be bothered with him, then he couldn’t be bothered with Thorin. They had moved on to another section of the city in order to support the repair of a local library. 

Professor Grey called the students off shortly before lunch with instructions to eat and shower quickly so that they could spend the maximum amount of time on their next field trip, the _Hidden Door_ brewery. All of the students had their parents sign permission slips to be able to enjoy a tasting, although the legal drinking age for wine and beer in Erebor was sixteen.

Outside the brewery, two smiling middle-aged men waved as the kids climbed out of the van. The students and their chaperones crowded up close in order to be able to hear them speak.

“Hello, everybody! My name is Bofur. This is my cousin, Bifur. Don’t mind him, he hasn’t said a word in twenty years, but he’s one of the best dam-, er, darned brewers in the world.” Bofur spoke swiftly and tipped his funny-looking hat at the group. “Let’s go; we have lots to see today and lots of beer to drink!”

Merry and Pippin rushed into the brewery with Sam and Frodo close behind. Bofur and Bifur led the rest of the boys in next, while the chaperones herded the straggling girls in last. 

Once inside the brewery, Bofur explained its history. “In the mid-seventeenth century, a young German entrepreneur came to Erebor and married the daughter of a local farmer. Together, they established one of the greatest breweries in the Mediterranean with her fields and his know-how. Their descendents owned and operated the brewery until the 1993 invasion. Sad to say, the entire family was killed during the initial chaos. This place remained closed and partially destroyed until the return of the king in 2008.”

Bofur paused for a breath. “My brother, Bombur, and I had become acquainted with Prince Thorin during the early days of exile. So, when the position of royal chef became available, Bombur applied. I was far more interested in brewing, as was our cousin, Bifur. With an investment of capital from the House of Durin, we started repairs in late 2008 and were partially operational by mid-2009. For the last few years, we’ve studied and experimented in order to find out what works best. And now, _Hidden Door_ beers are positioned to become one of the leading exports from the country. We plan to expand to a second facility outside the city by mid-2014. Any questions before Bifur leads you in to the brewing areas?”

Eomer raised his hand. “How do you decide what flavors people like and don’t like? Do you have focus groups? And if so, how can I join one?”

Everyone laughed at the last part.

Bofur chuckled as he replied, “We hold regular tastings for people on the island to come sample our new brews. We also travel regularly to international festivals and contests to keep up with the latest techniques. You are welcome to try some of our experimental beers while you are here today, but I don’t think you quite qualify to be able to do tastings in the U.S. yet. Anyone else?” He paused, looking around the group. “Excellent, please follow Bifur into the main part of the facility.”

The teenagers chattered impatiently as they looked around the cavernous building filled with giant stainless steel fermenting and conditioning tanks. There were casks of beer and cases of bottles sitting around everywhere. People worked here and there, sometimes alone and sometimes in groups of two or three. 

Bilbo was equally excited. He loved beer as much as he loved wine. The chef in him was always looking for new ways to incorporate the beverage into his cooking as well as novel pairings to go with his prepared dishes. 

* * *

As the main part of the tour came to an end, Bifur directed them into the tasting room with a series of hand-signals. In sharp contrast to the main part of the brewery, this space looked like an old English pub, with an expansive dark wood bar, lots of small tables scattered around, and a small amount of light filtering in through tiny windows.

“Is that original glass?” Mrs. Cotton asked.

“Yes, ma’am, we managed to salvage quite a bit of the glass. It dates to the mid-1800s, so it’s not completely original, but close,” Bofur responded. “Everyone, please spread down the bar, there’s plenty of room.”

Bifur made another signal to Bofur.

“Right. Bifur wants me to remind you that most of our beers are German style. We have two wheat beers, two pale beers, a dark beer and a fruit beer. There is also one experimental brew available that we are hoping to have ready for the summer.” 

Bilbo looked around the tasting-room, admiring the décor. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught one of the doors marked “Employees Only” in several languages, crack open an inch. Two pairs of eyes peered out stealthily. Bilbo turned to see if either Bifur or Bofur had noticed anything, but they were completely caught up with the students. He carefully glanced out of the corner of his eyes and watched as the door eased open a bit more. _Fíli and Kíli!_

Well, Bilbo could be sneaky, too. He gave the impression that he was engrossed in several of photographs hanging on the one wall and slowly drifted over to where the two princes were snooping. At that point, they were so caught up in watching the tasting, they didn’t even realize he was there until he cleared his throat. “ _Ahem_.”

Kíli jerked into Fíli and they both tumbled back through the door. The general noise of the room masked their startled exclamations. 

“Mr. Boggins! You scared us,” Fíli protested.

“I scared _you_?” Bilbo looked back to the group and decided to follow the princes into the storeroom, closing the door behind him. “What are you two doing here?”

Kíli looked down. “We’re being punished. Although there are worse places to be grounded than at the brewery, I suppose.”

“Thorin grounded you?” Bilbo asked, surprised.

“And Mum, too.” Fíli sighed and made air-quotes as he continued, “For ‘withholding information of critical security importance’.”

“And for fighting.” Kíli still seemed to be pissed about the altercation with Legolas.

“So here we are, working in the brewery for a few days…and the mines,” Fíli finished. “No clubs, no parties, no fun.”

“Then we heard lots of people speaking English, so we wanted to see who was here!” Kíli smiled at this point. “Imagine our surprise to see you! What are you doing?”

Bilbo felt slightly bad for the princes but he had also seen Thorin’s terrible concern for them the other night. “I am here in Erebor with my nephew, Frodo, on his senior class trip. Today, we are touring the brewery. Would you like to meet everyone? I’m sure the girls would love it if you took pictures with them.”

Fíli and Kíli exchanged glances and a few short words in Khuzdul. 

“Sure. Bofur won’t mind if we take a break,” Fíli replied.

“Oh, but not a word about Thorin, okay? No one knows that I met your uncle besides Professor Grey.”

The princes smiled mischievously. “Got it!”

Opening the door to the storeroom, Bilbo stepped out with Fíli and Kíli close behind. He led them over to where the chaperones were standing.

Quietly, Bilbo spoke, “Professor Grey, Professor Radegast, Mrs. Cotton, please allow me to introduce Prince Fíli and Prince Kíli of Erebor.”

Professor Grey bowed politely with a twinkle in his eye. “Lads, it’s good to see you again.”

Professor Radegast nodded, while Mrs. Cotton bobbed a clumsy curtsey.

Back at the bar, Bofur was wrapping up his explanation of the fruit beer made from a local cultivation of pomegranate. He trailed off as he saw the princes mingling with the chaperones. “Now then, it looks like we’ve gotten ourselves some special guests.”

The students looked at him, confused. When Bifur pointed behind them, they turned around as a group. Arwen and Lothiriel let out tiny shrieks of surprise.

Bilbo chuckled to himself. This made up for all of the little annoyances of the trip so far. In his strongest English accent, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen of Fornost Academy, may I humbly present to you, the Princes of Erebor, Fíli and Kíli.” With a flourish, he waved his hands at the two young men, who then manfully stepped forward to be mobbed by the excited American students. 

Bofur and Bifur came over to the group of chaperones, with Bofur commenting, “I should have known they’d stick their heads out sooner or later. Thorin’ll have my head though if anything happens.”

Bifur gestured and pointed at himself.

“Yes, Thorin will have your head, too. We will be headless together. Instead of the _Hidden Door_ brewery, we’ll be the _Headless Brewer_ brewery.” Bofur shook his head.

Gandalf interjected, “Do not worry, my friend. The students will be careful. You have my word.”

After the group mingled for a short time, Bofur apologetically reminded them that Fíli and Kíli still had some work to do and they needed to head off to the hotel for dinner. With pictures on their phones and autographs clutched in their hands, the elated students regretfully headed back to the vans, waving good-bye to the princes.

Frodo caught up with his uncle in the back of the shuttle. “Uncle, how did you know they were there?”

“I saw them watching us from the storeroom.”

“But, why did they agree to come out?”

Bilbo paused, not ready to reveal the whole story to his nephew yet and still annoyed at Thorin. “I met them briefly at the palace when I had dinner there on Monday night and I think they’ve met Professor Grey before, in London.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Frodo then turned to Sam and the two began an animated discussion of the various qualities of the beers they had tasted.

* * *

Later that night, Fíli and Kíli sat quietly with their uncle while Dwalin briefed them on the little additional information they had found on G.O.L.L.U.M.’s plans. Thorin then called Dís and updated her on the situation, as well as the princes’ successful completion of their first day of ‘work.’ Right before the king retired for the evening, Kíli decided to mention that they had seen Bilbo at the brewery.

“Really?” Thorin opted for the nonchalant response.

“Yes, and his nephew, Frodo, mentioned that tomorrow, the group was going to spend the whole day up at the Lonely Mountain with Dori and Nori.” Fíli chimed in with a sly grin. “They’re also going to have another language class.”

“Maybe we should also attend," Kíli snarked.

Thorin glared. “Maybe you _should_ attend. Maybe I should sign you up for classes every time you’re here.”

Kíli stopped laughing at the subtle threat.

“However, I do not believe it would be unreasonable if you went to the mountain tomorrow and participated in the tour or the class. And perhaps, I will ‘happen’ to join you.”

The princes high-fived. “Thank you, Uncle.”

“Go. If we’re going up to the mountain early, I’ll need to call Ori and Gloin to make arrangements.” 


	11. Song of the Lonely Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the mountain and a confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the comments and kudos. It is very encouraging. I would like to make a public service announcement: if you haven't watched "North and South," the 2004 BBC production starring Richard Armitage, I highly recommend it (especially if you are a fan of Pride and Prejudice). I did that last night, instead of writing...oops!
> 
> PS. This chapter contains the discussion of past sexual activity; but no actual activity.

Just after the sun appeared on Friday morning, the students of Fornost Academy made their bleary-eyed way to the vans. Although it was only about a forty-mile drive to the mountain, Bain had suggested to Professor Grey a few days prior that they head out extra early in order to take advantage of the views provided by the rising sun. They had also made arrangements to stop at the old restaurant in Dale for breakfast. It was in one of the few completely rebuilt neighborhoods of the town. The Mayor’s office had set up the tour for nine, with a break for lunch and language class, and then small group side tours in the afternoon. 

At about the same time, in the Hollin Room, the king’s private dining room in Arkenstone Palace, Fíli and Kíli were inhaling their breakfast beans and sausages, while Thorin stuck to a more continental style of deli meats and cheeses accompanied by fresh bread and fruit. 

Gloin and Ori appeared as they were finishing up. Ori passed both the students’ schedule and the one he prepared for the royal family to Thorin, while Gloin snagged a plate of cheese for himself. As the head of security chewed, Ori briefed everyone on the plans for the day, which could be summed up as them crashing the field trip, barring any state crisis. Gloin then passed a cell phone over to the king and reported that the helicopters would be ready in thirty minutes.

After Ori and Gloin left the room, Fíli exchanged a look with his brother and decided to interrogate Thorin about Bilbo. They had discussed it before bed last night with both seeing the positives and negatives of the situation.

“Uncle, so about your Mr. Boggins-”

“He is not my anything. Bilbo is a _friend_ from while I was in London when your grandfather died.”

Kíli added, “Arthur and Merlin are _friends_ too, you know.”

Thorin huffed. “Yes, I know. Uther takes every opportunity to share his opinion on the matter with anyone who will listen. Sometimes, I’d almost rather talk to Thranduil.”

The princes chuckled.

“I will not pretend that I don’t have a deeper interest in Mr. Baggins, but my first duty is, and always will be, to Erebor, as you would do well to remember. And that is all I have to say on the matter. In the event that something changes, I promise, you will be among the first to know.” The king stood up abruptly. “I will see you on the helipad in fifteen minutes _and_ I will leave without you.”

Once Thorin had left the room, Fíli and Kíli ate the rest of the bread and tried to decide how they could best help their uncle and his _friend_.

* * *

At the mountain, the students, who were finally fully awake, assembled inside a medium-sized trailer located just outside an enormous titanium gate. As soon as the entire group was seated, a pair of bearded men entered. 

“Good morning, everyone.” The more finely dressed of the two walked to the front of the room. “My name is Dori and this is my brother, Nori.” He pointed at the other man, who had an eccentric hairstyle. “Since the Restoration in 2008, we have been in charge of the Lonely Mountain, one of the largest mining operations in the world. In the past five years, our team has worked to rebuild the operations that were halted after the invasion. Within the next few months, we will finally be back at maximum capacity. You are probably most familiar with the gems and metals that come out of the mines in Africa and Asia, but our mountain also produces an amazing mix of rare materials as well.”

Nori stepped up, “I will be leading the tour this morning, as Dori will be occupied with some significant business matters. We ask that everyone leave their phones and cameras here in the meeting room, which will be locked. If you want pictures, we will provide some at the end of the day.”

There was some grumbling, but everyone emptied the electronics out of their bags. Finally, the students and their chaperones were ready to go and they spread out into the open area in front of the gates. As Dori locked the door to the trailer behind him, the rumble of helicopters could be heard in the distance. Shading their eyes against the sun, the group paused to watch two Sea King S-61s swiftly fly in low overhead and land on a large helipad located beyond the trailer. The teenagers started whispering, trying to guess who might be riding in the helicopters.

Gandalf leaned over to Bilbo, murmuring, “I believe this might be the appearance of Dori’s ‘significant business matters.’”

Dori and Nori exchanged brief words and Dori hurried over to meet the new arrivals, while Nori stayed with the group. Bounding out of the lead helicopter came Fíli and Kíli, dressed casually for a day of climbing around the mountain. They shook hands with Dori and the three moved together to the second Sea King.

Bilbo’s breath caught as Thorin stepped down onto the concrete slab. His hair was wind-blown and he was once more dressed in an elegant, but understated, manner. The king acknowledged Dori’s small bow and then quirked his lips at something one of the princes said. Pulling off his sunglasses, he let his gaze slowly sweep the party, until it settled on Bilbo standing on the end, next to Gandalf.

By now, the students had recognized the princes and Frodo realized that his uncle was staring at the final arrival, completely smitten.

“Uncle Bilbo!” Frodo poked him in the arm. “Is that your friend?”

After Bilbo failed to respond, Gandalf chuckled and answered, “Yes, my boy, that is indeed your uncle’s friend.”

“He’s kind of hot, I guess…if you’re in to that sort of thing.”

Bilbo snapped out of his daze. “Frodo!”

“Sorry, Uncle.”

While the three had been conversing, Dori and Thorin detoured into the trailer and the princes approached the party by the gates.

Fíli waved to everyone. “We’ve come to crash your tour, Nori. If that’s okay?”

Kíli added, “Ori says ‘hi,’ too.”

Nori sighed. “Very well. But you will listen quietly and participate with the rest of the students.”

“Of course,” they responded in unison.

“Let’s go then. Daylight’s burning.” Nori walked up to the giant gate and unlocked a small person-sized door in the corner. “Everyone stay close together and don’t wander off. Stick to the lighted paths. There are some dangerous shafts which haven’t been rebuilt and while they should be blocked, there is no guarantee. A rescue would not be fun.” 

The princes fell in with the group, easily chatting with everyone. Mrs. Cotton and Professor Radegast positioned themselves in the middle of the group as usual while Gandalf and Bilbo lingered behind.

Speaking softly to Gandalf, Bilbo asked, “What are they doing here?”

“I think your nephew might have spilled the beans on the class trip today. Knowing Fíli and Kíli, they saw this as an opportunity to escape their grounding. And, I’m sure once they mentioned your name, it wasn’t too hard to convince Thorin.”

The smaller man smiled ruefully. “I don’t know, Gandalf. It’s like that crazy song the kids listen to: _he’s hot and he’s cold, he’s in, then he’s out…_ ” Bilbo paraphrased. “I won’t contradict the notion that I like him, but I’m afraid that there might be too many differences to bridge. I haven’t heard a word since he left me at dinner on Tuesday night.”

Gandalf nodded sagely. “Have courage, Mr. Baggins.”

“I will certainly try…” he trailed off as they entered the first large cavern under the mountain. Even in the low-level light, it sparkled. “It’s beautiful. Like the palace.”

“Indeed, sir,” Nori said, from the front of the group. “The paint used on Arkenstone Palace was imbued with metals from this very cave.”

Gradually, the tour moved through the main part of the mountain. Nori was as able a guide as Bain and Frar, sprinkling his narrative with humorous anecdotes. Fíli and Kíli helped, interjecting jokes, as well as factoids. They talked most frequently with Frodo and Lance, who shared several friends with Kíli’s circle in London, while giving the girls a wider berth.

Around eleven o’clock, Nori led the group to a set of elevators. “I realize it’s a bit early for lunch, but the next part of the tour is divided up, so we’ll break here and resume at one o’clock.”

They rode the elevators back to the surface, coming out just off the shaft they had first entered.

Gandalf stepped forward as they emerged into the sunshine. “There will be bagged lunches available in the trailer.”

“Who’s going to be teaching our Khuzdul class, Professor G.? Since Mr. Bain had to call in sick?” Merry asked.

Bain had rung Gandalf at sunrise to inform him that he had a stomach virus and would not be able to make the trip.

“We’ll make do. Perhaps Mr. Nori could be convinced to assist?”

Nori snorted. “Only if you don’t mind me teaching them curse words, Professor.”

Fíli chimed in, as Kíli snickered next to him, “We can help.”

Inside the trailer, the helicopter pilots were watching television but Dori and Thorin were nowhere to be found.

The youngsters descended on the food like they hadn’t been fed in a week and everyone offered to share their lunches with the princes. Much to their disappointment, Gandalf pointed out that there was at least one extra bag, since Bain hadn’t made it, and actually there were a few, in case one type of sandwich proved more popular than another.

While the food was consumed, the students took turns demonstrating their mastery, or lack-there-of, of the words and phrases that Bain had taught them on Tuesday. Nori took the lead in correcting pronunciation as the princes prompted the dialogues with ‘What is your name?’ and ‘How are you?’

Mrs. Cotton and Professor Radegast decided to step outside, leaving only Bilbo and Gandalf with Nori and the kids. Things then started to get silly as the students came up with even crazier requests than they had with Bain. Some of the boys wanted to know how to say, ‘You Must Construct Additional Pylons,’ which led to an explanation of StarCraft for the adults and a discussion among the Ereborians about the appropriate translation of ‘pylon.’ Fíli and Kíli were stumped and Nori still wasn’t quite sure what a pylon was.

Just before everything descended into anarchy, the door popped open and a tired-looking Dori came in followed by Thorin. As the princes and Nori jumped to their feet, followed by Gandalf and Bilbo, the others were confused. Fíli and Kíli hurriedly whispered for everyone to stand up.

Thorin inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement and then quietly indicated that the group should be reseated.

Nori looked over at the remains of lunch on the table and shrugged his shoulders at Dori. “There’s a few things left.”

Dori passed one of the bags to Thorin and then took one for himself. He grabbed a bottle of water and joined Nori at the end of the table.

Thorin walked over to the princes, who were grinning shamelessly. 

“«May we introduce you, Uncle?»” Kíli begged. Bilbo’s introduction of them yesterday had given him the idea.

The king rolled his eyes. “«Yes.»”

The princes stood up, again and took simultaneous deep breaths. “Ladies and gentle-persons, it is our sincere and genuine pleasure to make known to you our uncle, the most high, the most regal, the most magestic, Thorin II, ‘Oakenshield’, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King of Erebor, Duke of Dale, Lord of the Lonely Mountain, and Master of the House of Durin.”

The students were momentarily stunned. Yes, they realized that Gandalf was friends with the king and yes, they realized that they were hanging out with the heirs to Erebor, but besides Frodo, none of them had even noticed the original arrival of the second helicopter’s occupant.

Finally, it was brave Sam who broke the silence. “Your Majesty, perhaps you could settle a disagreement for us? Nori, Fíli and Kíli can’t decide what would be the appropriate Khuzdul translation for the word ‘pylon’.”

With that, everyone started talking again, as the gamers of the group tried to explain pylons and the Protoss. Thorin caught Bilbo’s gaze and gave him a small smile, which the other man returned hesitantly. He then turned his attention to the discussion, indulging the ridiculous vocabulary requests. The king even tried translating several popular idioms, much to everyone’s delight.

* * *

Dori and Nori divided the students up after lunch, depending on their preferences. Nori would lead one group back into the mountain while an employee would lead the second group on a hike up one of the exterior trails. Mrs. Cotton and Professor Radegast volunteered to join the hike, as they both were particularly interested in botany and wanted to see the unique plants that grew on the mountain.

As Nori prepared to lead the other group into the mountain, Dori called for Bilbo to join him for a minute. Inside the small office in the trailer, Thorin waited impatiently. Dori showed Bilbo into the room and then closed the door to give the two some privacy.

“Thorin?” Bilbo queried, not sure what was going on.

“I wanted to see how you were doing. I’ve been busy, sorting out this mess with Fíli and Kíli.”

“I understand.” Bilbo had conceded to Thorin’s machinations last time; he wasn’t going to do it again.

“Gandalf told me that tomorrow was a free day for the students. Perhaps you would like to join me at the palace for lunch? You could finally meet Bombur.”

“Perhaps.”

Thorin frowned. “Is something wrong?”

_Thick man_. “I’m not confident that our continuing association is benefiting either of us.”

“What?” The king was taken aback.

“I like you, Thorin, for all that we’ve met three times in our lives…but I’m not one of your people for you to order about and then conveniently ignore until later. I’m leaving next Saturday to go back to Boston. Other than being a distraction, I’m not sure what good I am.”

“Very well. Maybe you should leave.” Thorin turned toward the small window, clearly pretending that Bilbo was no longer there.

The younger man huffed in frustration. _If only he would unbend, even a little bit…._ “Do you recall what happened before we fell asleep that night?”

They had both sworn to never speak of it again, but maybe recounting it would let the king give a little ground while still saving face. Although Bilbo had obscured parts of the story when he had recounted it to Frodo, this was the only bit about which he had straight-out lied.

“Yes,” Thorin whispered. 

Bilbo walked over, stood next to Thorin, and looked out the window, careful to keep his gaze straight ahead. “I’m not sure which is worse in the remembering, the fact that you cried or that I threw up all over the place.”

Two drunk young men, one incredibly sad and the other incredibly lonely, decided that having sex might be a good idea. They had only gotten as far as Bilbo trying to go down on Thorin, when the exiled king had started sobbing. Bilbo, bewildered, pulled back, but not before he started gagging. A panicked sprint to the loo meant that most of the mess ended up in the bathroom; however, the humiliation was complete for both of them.

“The vomit. Definitely the vomit. I couldn’t drink gin for a year afterwards,” Thorin responded, with a small shrug.

The two embarrassed men had somehow managed to clean themselves and the floor before they passed out in an exhausted sleep on Bilbo’s bed. In the morning, they swore to forget that it ever happened, and then ended up hanging out for the rest of the day, drinking tea and eating biscuits.

Bilbo shook his head at the recollection. “I will have lunch with you tomorrow, Thorin Oakenshield. But in return, you must promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Remember that you’re human, too. Even if it’s only for a few minutes at a time, okay?”

Thorin finally looked over at the shorter man beside him. “I will try.”


	12. You Can't Hurry Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day at the market.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter for Sarabi and DT Maxwell. I remain baffled by writing 2000 words of not much.

Saturday 

After their tête-à-tête on Friday afternoon, Bilbo had rushed off to rejoin the tour, while Thorin closeted himself in with Dori for the rest of the day, going over projections and plans. 

Bilbo sat with Frodo and Sam at breakfast the next morning. The two young men planned to go back to the brewery with the other boys in the afternoon but spend the morning down at the beach with just Merry and Pippin. They also hoped to hit the clubs after dark despite the fact that they were taking an early ferry in the morning over to Esgaroth, to spend the day in Rhovanion.

“What are you up to, Uncle Bilbo?” Frodo asked as he finished his last slice of toast. “I know that Professor Radegast is our contact for today and the rest of you are free. Are you going to see the king?”

“Possibly. We talked about it yesterday but his schedule is fairly full, and honestly, I’m not holding my breath.” Bilbo shrugged. “In the meantime, I’m going to go find that bakery we visited on Tuesday and bribe them for some recipes.”

Sam laughed. “That’s good, Mr. Baggins. We need new things for breakfast when we get home.”

“And if I do go to the palace today, I will definitely be raiding Bombur’s recipe box. You won’t have to eat the same thing again until you head off to college in August.”

The boys cheered and then stood up. Frodo hugged his uncle and with a wink, said, “Good luck. We’ll see you later today…or maybe tomorrow.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and quickly wrote his room number on the check. Out in the lobby, he told Radegast that he was off to the bakery and that he would be in touch later with his plans. As he strolled down the street, Bilbo realized that there was an open air market set up in the central square. Diverting from the bakery, Bilbo found himself amazed by the variety of handmade goods, from leather to metal. There was also a substantial number of food vendors, offering typical Ereborian dishes as well as fresh produce and other victuals. 

With a lot of hand signals and the vocab list he had made during the language classes, Bilbo successfully bargained for a gift for his nephew and even one for poor overworked Falco back in London. Just as he arrived at a large honey stand, his mobile chirped. Shifting all the bags into his left hand, he hit the answer button with his right, without looking to see who was calling.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Bag-er, Mr. Bilbo, good morning. This is Ori.”

“Hi, Ori, how are you? We had a good time with your brothers yesterday.”

“The princes told me all about it last night.”

Bilbo laughed. “I’m sure they did. But, Ori…don’t you ever stop working?”

This time the secretary laughed. “I have some Sundays off…and whenever the king isn’t busy, I catch a few hours here and there. It’s okay – I love my job, most of the time. Which brings me to why I’m calling. Where are you?”

“At the huge market in…Moria Square, I think?” Bilbo looked around for a sign to confirm his location.

“Yes, there’s a market there almost every weekend in the spring. How much longer do you think you need?”

“Um, I’ve really only seen a small part of it. I’d like to stay awhile, since tomorrow we’ll be in Esgaroth.” Although Bilbo was eager to meet Bombur, this was a unique opportunity.

“I understand completely, sir. Please hold.”

Bilbo peered into ‘Yee Oldde Honey Shoppe’ while he waited for Ori to return. Clearly, they were trying a bit too hard and Bilbo wondered if he should tell them how it should really be spelled. The phone beeped in his ear. 

“The king will call you when he arrives at the Square. Sorry, Mr. Bilbo, I have to go.”

Before Bilbo could respond, the call ended, and then he registered what Ori had said. Thorin was coming _here_.So much for ambling about the market. He ducked into the stall in front of him, wrote out ‘Ye Olde Honey Shoppe’ on a scrap of paper, handed it to the clerk, and moved back out to the path. 

Bilbo looked around for a location that would be easy to give to the king, finally settling on the large statue of Thorin I in the middle of the square. Thorin I had been one of the heroes of Napoleon's Hundred Days. Although the Ereborian had not been present at the Battle of Waterloo, he diligently led his navy in the Mediterranean, working to keep the sea-lanes open, in addition to provisioning many of the armies with fine weapons from local blacksmiths. 

The Englishman smiled at the comparison between the first Thorin and the current one, both tirelessly working to protect their country. He wondered if Thorin I had ever met Admiral Nelson. 

“Damn the maneuvers, just go straight at ’em!” Bilbo softly murmured. Maybe he should take that advice himself. Looking down at the plaque at the base of the statue, he realized that Thorin would have only been about nineteen when Nelson died at Trafalgar, so perhaps not.

He seated himself on one of the empty benches and decided to sort through his bags while he waited for the current Thorin to arrive. A few minutes later, his mobile rang again. This time he looked down to see the number, which only registered as ‘ _blocked call_ ’. 

“This is Bilbo.”

“Where are you?”

“Do they teach you no manners in this country? _Hello Bilbo, this is Thorin speaking…-_ ”

Thorin growled.

“I’m sitting on your ancestor’s foot.”

“What? Say that again. I think my English is failing me,” the king responded.

“Thorin I – his statue in the middle of the square. I’m on a bench, by his foot.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Bilbo supposed he should just accustom himself to being hung up on as long as he was in Erebor. He started looking around, trying to spot Thorin in the crowd. 

After several minutes, the king strode over to the bench, wearing his favorite dark sunglasses and long cloak. Bilbo had noticed that the style of cloak was popular among the locals, probably because of the random rain showers that occurred in the spring. He also spotted a bodyguard lingering discretely by one of the nearby stalls. 

“Did you drag poor Loni out here? You’ve been bothering him all week.”

Loni snorted and Thorin glared back at him, over his sunglasses. “It’s his job to be ‘bothered’ and ‘dragged’ around.”

“I suppose.” Bilbo patted the seat next to him. “Sit.”

“Are you the one who gives the orders now, Mr. Baggins?” Thorin asked archly.

Snickering, Bilbo countered with, “Yes, especially if you want to eat today.” After Thorin nodded in agreement, Bilbo continued, “I picked up a few trinkets for Frodo and my agent, but I want to visit more of the food vendors – see if there is anything interesting Bombur and I can cook. Also, there was a ceramics artisan back near where I entered the square, and I failed at being able to negotiate with him.” He shrugged, “I’m not sure if he was willfully ignoring me or if my pronunciation was just that bad.”

“As long as you didn’t ask for sparkling pillows?”

“Ha, bloody ha.” Bilbo pushed himself off the bench. “Come along, ‘Oak,’ time to earn your supper.”

The two men wound their way through the crowd, returning to the ceramics tent. Beautifully hand-painted plates and serving dishes covered the tables. Off to one side, an assortment of mugs, beer-steins and tea cups hung from a temporary wall. Bilbo showed Thorin the tea set he wanted to purchase. The pot was painted with a scene of the Lonely Mountain beneath a burning sun and the matching cups were decorated with delicate flowers and thrushes.

Thorin approached the vendor. “«How much for the tea set?»”

Recognizing Bilbo from earlier, the man’s eyes darted back and forth between his potential customers. “«Two hundred florins.»”

The king choked. That was practically highway robbery. He would have priced it at one hundred, maximum.

“Oak? What’s wrong?” Bilbo was surprised at Thorin’s reaction.

“Nothing, just…negotiating.” The king decided to try the diplomatic route first. “«Surely that is excessive, master craftsman. I would think that one hundred florins would be more than sufficient».”

The artisan crossed his arms. “«Two hundred. I don’t sell to the Americans.»”

While Bilbo’s accent had faded somewhat in the five years or so since he moved to Boston, he still didn’t sound American.

“«He’s English.»”

“«Aren’t they all the same? Now, two hundred florins or get out of my tent!»” He retorted and stepped around from behind the counter.

Bilbo had only a second to register what happened before Loni appeared between Thorin and the angry vendor.

“«Please step back, sir.»” Loni asked in a deceptively even tone.

After glancing out of the tent to make sure no one was paying attention, Thorin removed his sunglasses and pulled his hood down. “«Thank you, Loni. I’m sure Mr…»” the king paused, looking at the suddenly cowed man.

“«Torgan, Sire.»”

«Mr. Torgan was just going to show my friend the lovely tea set. Weren’t you, Mr. Torgan?»” Thorin shifted over to stand closer to Bilbo.

“«Yes, Sire. I…ah….»” Torgan trailed off. “«I’m sorry, Sire…I didn’t realize….»”

Bilbo tugged on Thorin’s cloak. “What’s going on?”

“A small misunderstanding. Mr. Torgan will be selling you the tea set for seventy-five florins. «And finding a way to be more polite to our foreign visitors in the future.»”

Torgan nodded desperately. “«Of course, Sire.»” Carefully keeping space between him and the king, the vendor picked up the tea set and carried it back to his counter. He wrapped it carefully, maintaining a wary eye on Loni. 

Bilbo pulled the money out of his wallet, while Thorin resettled his cloak and sunglasses. “Thank you, Mr. Torgan. The pot is truly a work of art. Maintaining that consistent shading throughout must have been difficult.”

The craftsman seemed surprised by Bilbo’s observation. “Yes, sir. I work hard on the colors. Thank you,” he replied, in very heavily accented English. He took the money and carefully passed the package over to Bilbo. “I hope you enjoy it.”

The trio departed the craft area without additional incident and moved into the part of the market with the foodstuffs. Thorin offered to carry the box so that Bilbo could more freely interact with the vendors. Taking into account that his companions were growing restless with his roaming, the chef in Bilbo quickly assessed which stalls he needed to visit and what he might want to compliment the pantry at the palace. Although he would have liked to haggle with the sellers, Bilbo allowed Thorin to speak so they could finish more quickly.

Once they were both laden with goods, Bilbo conceded that they could return to Arkenstone Palace. “Also, I need to check in with Professor Radegast and let him know that I won’t be returning until later.”

Thorin led him out of Moria Square and down a nearby street to an illegally parked black Rolls Royce Phantom. A driver (who wasn’t Dwalin) jumped out and helped the king and Bilbo unload the purchases into the trunk. Loni held the back door for the two men and then moved to the front passenger seat.

Once they were settled in, Bilbo phoned Radegast and told him that he would be late returning to the hotel since he would be at the palace for the rest of the day. He also texted Frodo, “@ Arkenstone. Be good.”


	13. Contemplations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooking and talking...fluffy fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I blame Guy of Gisborne for my lack of writing (and the fact that I'm working on an action scene). Who knew that a full-sized Richard Armitage was as awesome as a dwarf-sized one?

Back at Arkenstone Palace, Bilbo insisted on helping the driver unload the car and carry everything into the kitchen. Ori met them in the hall and promised to leave Bilbo’s gifts and tea set in Thorin’s sitting room. In the kitchen, Bombur nearly crushed Bilbo with a hug and started babbling to him in a mix of English and French. Mim also cheerfully welcomed him back, holding out a copy of _There and Bake Again_ to be autographed. The three chefs started going through the bags, with Bombur translating for Mim as they went along.

Thorin realized that he had been forgotten. “Bilbo.”

Halting mid-sentence, Bilbo looked over to see the king leaning against the wall by the private stairwell. “Yes, Thorin?”

“I expect lunch in an hour. We’ll eat in the Hollin Room, Bombur.” He inclined his head and then stalked up the stairs.

“Imperious arse,” Bilbo muttered. “I swear he does that on purpose.”

Bombur stifled a chuckle while Mim appeared scandalized. 

“Alright, gentlemen, what can we make that is fit to serve a king? Besides more scones.” Bilbo asked, as Mim had already pulled out the oranges and raspberries.

* * *

While Bilbo was occupied in the kitchen, Thorin took advantage of the time to receive an update from Gloin and Dwalin about G.O.L.L.U.M. Sitting in his office, he listened as Dwalin recounted his most recent conversation with Sir Leon in London. Gloin reported that Gimli had spoken to Legolas again but still hadn’t received a straight answer about why he had the Rhovanion diamond. 

“«We need something to draw them out, Thorin,»” Dwalin said finally. “«A scheme of some sort. Otherwise, they will continue to turn this situation to their advantage.»”

“«What about a party?»” Ori suggested from the corner, where he was scribing notes.

Dwalin groaned. 

“«No, I’m serious. Your Majesty, we can invite the Americans and the Rhovanions. Play up that there aren’t any hard feelings about the fight. Maybe a treaty of some sort?»”

“«I’m not going to endanger a bunch of children just to throw those bastards off their game.»”

Gloin interjected, “«His idea has some merit, Thorin. Let me consult with my counterparts and see if we can’t work out a few proposals.»”

“«Very well. Anything else?»”

“«How’s Mr. Baggins?»” Dwalin asked.

“«Fine…and none of your business at the moment.»”

Ori snickered. 

“«If I find you gossiping again, Ori, you will regret it.»”

“«Sorry, sir.»” Ori gathered up the papers from the meeting and slunk out of the office.

Thorin looked at Dwalin and Gloin. “«I promise, I’m working on it. Bilbo will be joining me for lunch shortly. I’ll see you tonight, unless something changes in the interim.»”

The two men left. Once they were clear of Thorin’s office, they began to speculate about what _lunch_ might entail.

* * *

Precisely at noon, Thorin appeared in the Hollin Room. Bilbo was already there, unloading the three-level food trolley. There were plates of mini-sandwiches, several types of salad, and homemade crisps. The scones were set off to one side, along with a tray of chocolate-peanut butter cookies. In a crystal carafe, there was a sparkling fruit juice-champagne drink.

Bilbo grinned wickedly as Thorin took in the spread. “I trust Your Majesty is pleased with the selection?”

Realizing that Bilbo was teasing him, the king shrugged. “I suppose it will have to do. I might have to raid the kitchen afterwards though.” Thorin picked up an empty plate and filled it, while Bilbo poured their drinks.

Once they were both happily chomping away at lunch, Thorin added, “But, I think it would be unfair to deprive others of this food, so when we’re done, we can call Fíli and Kíli and let them know it’s available. Kíli is a big fan of crisps.”

Bilbo agreed and then recounted the tale of his adventures with Bombur and Mim. “I autographed two copies of my cookbook for them. Bombur also promised to share some of his recipes. I pledged to Frodo and Sam that they would have new food for the next four months or so.”

“What happens after that?” Thorin asked, after he finished his last bite of salad and started to eye the desserts.

“They don’t do gap years in the U.S. like they do in the U.K., so both boys will be headed off to university.”

“Have they enrolled yet?”

“I think Sam wants to stay close to home. UMass-Amherst, er, the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, has a fairly good biology/botany program. Sam’s dad owns a well-established chain of greenhouses throughout the state and I know Sam wants to follow him in the business. Frodo…” Bilbo shrugged. “He loves history and languages. He keeps talking about schools in the U.K., so I can move home and he can feel closer to his parents, but I don’t think he’s made up his mind yet. The boys have until the beginning of May to decide, so I imagine we’ll be discussing it a lot in the next few weeks. What about Fíli and Kíli?”

“Well, Fíli is up at Oxford, in his second year, and Kíli is on his gap year, basically sticking close to Fíli and raising hell in London. I know he wants to go to Oxford too, but he hasn’t applied and I’m not sure his grades merit it.”

“But he could go anyway?”

Thorin flushed slightly, “I could send the lad to any university in the world he chose. One of the unfair benefits of rank, I suppose.”

“When you said you went back to school after we first met, I don’t think you ever mentioned where that was?” Bilbo finally released Thorin from his misery and brought the trays of scones and cookies over to where they were sitting.

“Munich.”

“You speak German, too?”

Thorin ticked them off on his fingers, “Khuzdul and English, then French, German, Spanish, and enough Arabic and Italian to get into trouble.”

Bilbo was impressed. “Was that your major?”

“No,” Thorin replied, as he placed two scones on his plate. “I studied chemistry and geology.”

“Interesting.” Bilbo brought out the tea that was still sitting on the trolley and filled two cups. “Do you want to invite Fíli and Kíli in for leftovers?”

Thorin _mrumph-_ ed around his mouthful of scone. “Do you have your mobile?”

“Yes.” 

“Go ahead and text them, ‘food in Hollin’.” Thorin recited their numbers so that Bilbo could enter them into his phone. “They’ll be here as soon as they get the message.”

When that was completed, the two men finished the remains of dessert and relaxed in their chairs.

“So, Mr. Baggins, what would you like to do for the rest of today?”

“Maybe we could start with finishing the palace tour? I missed the second half on Sunday night with my unscheduled detour.”

“Of course. I also happen to tell more entertaining stories than Frar.” Thorin stood and motioned for Bilbo to follow him. 

As they stepped into the hall, Fíli and Kíli came careening around the corner. “Lunch?”

“In there.” Thorin moved aside. “You’d think Dís was starving them in London or something.”

Bilbo chuckled. “It is the nature of growing boys. When Frodo has all his friends over, especially Pippin, I have to prepare for a day in advance, otherwise all I get are a bunch of moping teenagers. _I’m hungry, Mr. Baggins. When are we having dinner, Mr. Baggins? Are there any more tarts?_ ”

Thorin quirked his lips. “I may have done that once or twice in the past as well.”

“Last week, was it?”

The king liked the saucy retorts but he deigned not to reply, responding instead, “March, Mr. Baggins. Lots to see, unless you want me to leave you lost in the washroom again.”

* * *

After a quiet afternoon of strolling the palace and the gardens, Bilbo was in heaven. Thorin’s current stresses were temporarily placed aside and the two men talked intermittently, content to just enjoy each other’s company. 

Returning inside, Thorin took them up to his sitting room. “I would like to invite you to stay for dinner, and you don’t have to cook it this time, but I understand if you need to get back to the hotel.” 

The king sorted through some correspondence Ori had placed on the side table and then continued, “Saturday nights, if there is nothing else happening, I usually try to invite my associates to the palace. Dori and Nori will come in from the mountain and Ori will stay late, Dwalin and Balin will be here. I don’t think you’ve met Balin yet.” Thorin counted in his head. “Bofur and Bifur will come, as will Bombur, after he’s done cooking. Finally, there will be Gloin, and his older brother, Oin. Oin is the royal physician but he also maintains his own practice in Laketown. Oh, and Fíli and Kíli, since they are still grounded.”

Bilbo smiled at the thought of meeting all of Thorin’s friends together, although he had encountered most of them at least once. “That sounds wonderful. Let me just check in with Frodo and Professor Radegast.”

“I’ll give you a few moments. I need to visit the washroom.”

As Thorin departed, Bilbo pulled out his mobile and dialed Radegast first. The teacher reported that all was well at the hotel and there was no need to return at this time. Frodo on the other hand, seemed unhappy.

“What’s wrong, Frodo?”

“Just not feeling one hundred percent, Uncle. I think I might head back to the hotel and let the guys go out tonight without me.”

“Do you want me to come back?” Bilbo started to get up from the couch.

Thorin returned at that moment, finding an anxious Bilbo still talking on the phone. He placed a reassuring hand on the other man’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?” He mouthed.

Bilbo covered up the speaker. “Frodo might be sick.”

“I’ll have Loni bring him here. Oin should be arriving in about an hour. Tell him to head back to the hotel.”

Bilbo turned back to the phone. “Frodo, Thorin has offered to have his physician take a look at you. Why don’t you head back to the hotel and Mr. Loni, one of Thorin’s guards, will pick you up there.  That way you can have a relaxing evening not at the hotel. You don’t want to get sick, it will spoil the rest of the trip.”

“Yes, Uncle. I’ll see you soon.”

“Good-bye, Frodo.” After ending the call, Bilbo sagged against Thorin. “Thank you. I always worry excessively when he’s unwell. After the boat accident with his parents, he was unconscious for almost a week and the doctors weren’t sure if he would ever wake. Since then, I feel like he’s more susceptible to colds and chills.”

Thorin pulled Bilbo into his arms and placed their foreheads together. “Oin will have him fixed up in no time.” 

They stood there together for a minute. Thorin stole a few light kisses from Bilbo, but then regretfully pulled back. “Let me call Ori. He can take care of Loni and Oin.” The smaller man stayed tucked under the king’s arm while the phone call was placed.

Returning to the couch, Thorin stretched out and made room for Bilbo to curl against him. “We’ll take a break for a bit.”

* * *

Bilbo felt the gentle press of lips against his temple, but he was warm and comfy. “Sleeping.” 

“Wake up, _kurdûh_.”

“Hmmm?” Bilbo yawned, as consciousness slowly returned. He couldn’t believe that he had fallen asleep on the couch. “Thorin, ugh, I’m sorry!” Blushing, Bilbo sat up and realized that he had also drooled on the king’s shirt. “Ick.”

“I’ve had worse. Anything is better than vomit.”

“I didn’t puke on you.”

“Not for lack of trying.”

Bilbo huffed and got off the couch. “Fine. You can go change your shirt on your own, while I stay here and drink tea.”

Thorin shook his head as he stood. “No, I think Loni will be back in a few minutes, so come with me, and then we’ll go downstairs to wait.”

Bilbo followed Thorin down the hall to the king’s bedchamber. This time, he didn’t linger in the doorway but instead followed Thorin over to the enormous walk-in closet. “Do you own anything that isn’t blue, grey or black?”

“No.”

Picking through the casual button-downs, Bilbo stopped on one that was almost green. “How about this one?”

The king unbuttoned his current shirt and tossed it in a hamper. He accepted the new one. “I think the tags might still be on this.”

The younger man crossed his arms and tapped his foot, as Thorin reluctantly buttoned it.

“You look fine.”

“Your Majesty? Mr. Bilbo?” A voice called from the hall.

“We’re in here, Ori,” Thorin responded.

Ori hurried over to the closet. “Loni helped Mr. Frodo to one of the guest chambers. There wasn’t any traffic – they got back here quickly. Lord Oin should be here shortly. I will send him up when he arrives.”

“Thank you, Ori.” Bilbo replied. “Hopefully, I will get a chance to talk to you this evening.”

“Oh, yes, sir. I also just spoke to Bombur. He is working on a whole roast lamb!”

Thorin came up behind Bilbo and signaled for Ori to go. Once the secretary had left, Thorin briefly hugged Bilbo. “Let’s go see your nephew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the Dwarrow Scholar: kurdûh - my heart


	14. A Song for Heart and Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo's miraculous recovery!

Later that evening, Bilbo sat next to Frodo, allowing Fíli and Kíli to ply them with food. When he and Thorin had reached the guest room earlier, Frodo was tired but not visibly ill. Oin’s assessment was too much sun in the morning and too much beer in the afternoon. After admonishments from his uncle, the teenager accepted the physician’s suggestion of rest and lots of water. 

Bilbo had called Professor Grey and secured consent for them to spend the night at the palace, with the possibility of skipping the day trip to Rhovanion the following day, depending on how Frodo felt in the morning. With the king’s permission, Gloin had volunteered to chaperone in his place, as well as bring along his son Gimli. This suited Thorin’s plans on two levels. One, Bilbo would stay in Erebor with him and two, Gloin could have private words with Thranduil about the proposed plan to draw out G.OL.L.U.M.

The Ereborians were all in good spirits throughout dinner, sharing tales and singing rowdy songs, to the delight of the two guests. Even Dwalin got into the spirit of things after Balin gave him extra beer. Eventually, Fíli, Kíli and Ori drew Frodo into a card game, which called for another recounting of the now infamous baked goods poker session. Bilbo watched indulgently, pleased that they were getting along so well. 

As the night drew to a close, Nori and Gloin had stepped out for a private conversation with Dwalin. Balin left with Dori, Bifur, and Bofur to discuss several business matters, while Bombur went to check on Mim. Oin volunteered to take Frodo back to his room, for another quick examination, before departing. Ori and the princes bade sleepy farewells as they retired, with Ori noting that Loni had sent someone to the hotel for some of Frodo and Bilbo’s clothes and toiletries.

Finally, only Bilbo and Thorin remained. The king sipped his wine, while the younger man absently chewed on the last ginger biscuit.

“I had a fantastic time tonight,” Bilbo declared, breaking the easy silence. “Everyone was very kind, especially to Frodo.”

Thorin nodded. “Frodo is easy to be kind to…you’ve done an excellent job raising him. Kíli would do well to follow his example.”

“Except for the beer, today.”

“I think the sun was more the cause than anything. Dís got sun poisoning in Mexico one summer in conjunction with a few margaritas. A simple misjudgment and no lasting harm done, I suspect.”

“Fair enough.” Bilbo rubbed his eyes, ready for bed. “I…” he hesitated. Despite the fact that everything seemed to be going well, he didn’t want to upset the balance they had achieved. Deciding to heed Nelson’s advice after all, he straight out asked, “What are my sleeping arrangements for tonight?”

Thorin paused. “It’s up to you, _kurdûh_. There is an adequate room adjoining Frodo’s or you may stay with me.”

“If Oin is concerned, I’ll stay by Frodo, otherwise I’d like very much to join you…but just to sleep. I don’t think I’m ready for anything tonight.”

“Very well. I’ll take you up and you can obtain Oin’s diagnosis.” Thorin finished his drink and motioned for Bilbo to lead the way into the hall.

Upstairs, Oin reported that Frodo was much improved but that he would return first thing tomorrow to check again. After hugging his nephew and wishing him a good night, Bilbo wandered back to where he thought Thorin’s rooms were located. He stifled an embarrassed giggle as he realized he had found the loo from the first night. Using it as a reference point, he was able to locate the correct hall and was pleased to note that Thorin had left his door open.

Stepping inside, he noticed his small travel bag sitting on the floor. “Thorin?” He didn’t see the king anywhere in the room.

The door next to the walk-in closet opened and Thorin walked out of the bathroom. Bilbo’s breath caught for a moment. While the king was exceptionally good looking when dressed up, he looked equally handsome in a pair of dark plaid sleep-pants and an old white t-shirt. Thorin had also pulled his hair back, keeping it neatly out of the way. 

“Washroom’s yours.” 

Bilbo grabbed his bag and hurried in, closing the door behind him. He slowly exhaled. He wasn’t entirely sure he could spend the entire night just _sleeping_ next to Thorin. Moving through his ablutions, Bilbo resolutely kept his mind on poor sick Frodo…and kittens. Yes, lots of kittens. When he was certain his desire had subsided, he re-opened the door.

Thorin had closed the outer door and turned off most of the lights, leaving only a soft glow from the bedside lamp to illuminate the space. He reclined in the enormous bed with a few papers in hand.

Bilbo placed his bag against the wall and padded over to the far-side of the bed. “Are you sure this is okay?”

The king looked up, clearly considering Bilbo’s question. “Yes. But your concern is much appreciated.” Thorin placed his paperwork down on the nightstand and pulled the blankets back. “Come on then. We may be in the Mediterranean, but it’s still cool at night.”

Once Bilbo had settled, Thorin shut off the light and slid down next to him. “Good night, _kurdûh_. I’m pleased that you are here.”

“Me too, Thorin. _Kurdûh_ …that’s the second or third time you’ve called me that…what does it mean?”

Grateful that it was too dark to see him blush, the king mumbled, “My heart.”

“Oh….” The delight in Bilbo’s voice was evident and in response, he rolled over to face Thorin. “That’s very sweet.” He give Thorin a gentle kiss and then placed his head on the other man’s shoulder.

* * *

Shouting in Khuzdul woke Bilbo sometime in the middle of the night. Thorin thrashed frantically, caught up in the sheets.

“Thorin! Thorin!” Afraid to get winged by a stray fist, Bilbo tried to wake the other man without touching him. Calling the king’s name though didn’t seem to be getting through, so Bilbo wracked his brain for another idea. “Thorin…wake up! Dwalin ate all the scones and now he’s got…er, parasites.”

The flailing stopped. “What?” The king sat up and turned the light back on. Visibly disoriented, Thorin blinked and looked at the other man. “Bilbo?”

“Yep, just me.” Bilbo moved completely into Thorin’s line of sight. “Nobody else.”

The king slumped back against the headboard. “I haven’t had nightmares in a long time. I fear this trouble with Fíli and Kíli has upset me more than I thought.”

“Would you like a glass of water?”

Thorin nodded and Bilbo climbed out of bed, heading into the bathroom. Finding a glass next to the sink, he quickly filled it and brought it back, passing it over to the king.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really…but I suspect I should…especially if you’re going to…be around from time to time.” Thorin stumbled over the last part.

Bilbo nodded and sat back on the bed.

“ _Sudur Melhekhaz Amradûnh Uryâdûd Glaurung_.”

“What?”

“S.M.A.U.G.”

“But what does it mean?”

Thorin shrugged. “It doesn’t translate well, which is why we try to avoid the subject. Hmm…the dangerous, kingly death-men, greatest heirs of Glaurung, is about as close as I can get.”

“Death-men?”

“Um…basically people who have forsworn ties with the living and dedicated their lives to a cause, becoming like the dead so they have nothing to lose.” 

“And, who’s Glaurung?” Bilbo was pleased that Thorin was finally sharing the story.

Without inflection, the king recited, “You shall have the story, as it was told to me…in the days before Erebor, in the days before the House of Durin, this isle was ruled by a line of dread tyrants. The greatest of them all was Glaurung. Highest among his crimes was enslaving people to work under the Lonely Mountain.” Thorin paused and took a sip of water.

“Basically, Lord Durin and six other nobles initiated a civil war against Glaurung and his cronies. It culminated at the Battle of Cabed-en-Aras in 1522, a narrow valley not far from the mountain. With the support of the peasants, Durin’s combined forces overwhelmed those of Glaurung. They executed the king on the battlefield and exiled any who followed him. Unfortunately, in the aftermath, Glaurung’s heir escaped.”

Thorin looked over at Bilbo. “Durin was chosen to be king, with the other lords accepting positions within the government. Glaurung’s heir eventually settled at the court of Ivan the Terrible. With the support of his father’s followers, he established S.M.A.U.G. and dedicated his life to destroying the newly established Kingdom of Erebor and the House of Durin.”

Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s hand, encouraging him to continue.

“Fast-forward almost five hundred years to 1993. My grandfather had been…unwell for some time, but my father refused to see it. In our distraction, the _Amradûnh_ were able to establish a foothold here on the island. Afterward, we learned that they planned to lay siege to the palace, seize the mountain and raze as much of the island as they could. They blamed both the House of Durin and the common people for everything that had happened. If they couldn’t have Erebor, no one could.”

“So, what’s Frar’s ‘bad omen’ then?”

“Like any superstition, calling them by their true name draws their attention to you.”

“Frar also said you and your grandfather held part of the palace for a week.”

Thorin nodded. “Thus, the nickname ‘Oakenshield’ – we kept them out with an oak table…but they had hired first-rate mercenaries, so we had no choice but to surrender…and then they slaughtered Thror as they claimed we had slaughtered Glaurung. I was their bargaining chip….”

As Thorin hesitated, Bilbo placed his finger to the king’s lips. “Shh…stop, if you don’t want to speak of it.”

Thorin swallowed and looked away for a moment. “Let me finish. The rest…you know most of…I was released, and spent time in London and in Germany. Until he died, my father endlessly demanded support from the United Nations and our so-called allies. Thranduil watched from his dock while Erebor burned. _Bastard_. In 2007, the last legitimate heir of Glaurung died, leaving the group in disarray. Uther and Thranduil finally got off their collective asses and pushed for my return. Most of the remaining _Amradûnh_ were imprisoned, although a few were executed for war-crimes.”

“And now, there’s G.O.L.L.U.M.” Bilbo said, as he yawned.

“Yes, which I will explain tomorrow, I promise.” Thorin flipped the light off and tugged Bilbo against him. “No more for the moment, I think.”

After gently carding his fingers through Thorin’s hair for a few minutes, Bilbo held the older man close for the rest of the night.

* * *

Sunday morning

Bilbo buried his head under the covers.

“Mr. Bilbo?”

That wasn’t Thorin. “Ori?” Bilbo rolled over to see the king’s secretary standing tentatively in the doorway.

“The king is sorry…well, no he’s not, Thorin’s never sorry…but if he were to be sorry…I mean…” Ori wrung his hands and sighed, starting over. “Gloin and Oin were here first thing and Thorin didn’t want to wake you. Mr. Frodo seems to be doing fine this morning and so Gloin took him and Gimli to meet the ferry to Esgaroth.” 

“Oh no, I’m late! What about me?” Bilbo bounded out of bed.

“The king said you could just stay here, since Gloin is with the group.”

“Does Thorin realize he can’t just organize my life as he sees fit?”

“No, sir.” Ori stifled a giggle behind his hand. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“No, it’s fine, Ori. Not your fault.” Bilbo started digging through his bag, looking for clean clothes. “I want to go over to Esgaroth.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll make the arrangements.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to the Dwarrow Scholar. The conjugations probably still aren't the best though. Also to Dragon Age and the idea of the Legion of the Dead.


	15. It Must Be Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to Rhovanion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I missed updating yesterday. I watched all of Season 3 of Robin Hood...

Ori called for a helicopter on his phone as he hurried back down to the Hollin Room, where Thorin was now meeting with Dwalin. He encountered a pair of hung-over princes in the hall. “Too much beer, my friends?”

“Shh…Ori. Who turned on the lights?” Kíli blinked, owlishly.

Fíli shook his head and bumped into his brother. “Stop being a baby. We didn’t drink that much.”

“Have you seen Uncle Thorin? Or Mr. Boggins?” Kíli asked.

Ori frowned, taking Thorin’s admonishment on gossip to heart, but deciding this was too important. “Mr. Bilbo continues to be displeased at the king’s habit of arranging matters to suit himself, without taking into consideration what others might think.”

Kíli blinked at him again.

Sighing, Ori elaborated, “Thorin left him this morning to go to a meeting and sent Frodo off with Gloin. I just went to wake Mr. Bilbo up. He’s not pleased that he wasn’t consulted about the plan to have him spend the day here. He wants to join Professor Grey and the others in Esgaroth.”

Fíli drew in a quick breath. “Uncle will go spare about that.”

“Good luck telling him, Ori. Fíli, I think we should go have breakfast with Bombur this morning.” Kíli turned to head toward the kitchens.

Casting an apologetic look at Ori, Fíli followed him down the hall.

The secretary briefly contemplated just heading to his office and staying out of the whole mess. Unfortunately, as his brothers often teased him, he was a soft-hearted young man. Not to mention, he really liked Mr. Bilbo. Squaring his shoulders, Ori moved to the door at the end of the corridor and knocked.

“«Your Majesty,»” Ori said, as he stepped inside, “«Mr. Bilbo has requested transportation to Esgaroth to meet up with his nephew and the others. I took the liberty of ordering a helicopter for him. It will be ready in about twenty minutes.»”

Thorin cursed and then glared at Ori. “«What?»”

“«Sounds like you’ve got a runaway, my prince,»” Dwalin smirked.

“«Sir, if I may make a suggestion?»” Ori asked.

“«If you must,»” Thorin said sharply.

Ori cleared his throat. “«I think that Mr. Bilbo would appreciate it most if you took some breakfast up and then offered to spend the day with him in Esgaroth.»”

Dwalin pushed away from the table and snagged a croissant. “«I’ll leave you to it then.»” He picked up a folder. “«Ori, will you have these photocopied and then delivered to my office? I’ll be back after lunch to hear how the meeting between Gloin and Thranduil went.»”

Ori took the paperwork and followed Dwalin out of the room. Thorin took advantage of the unexpected break to reflect on what his friends had said, as well as Bilbo’s wish from the other day. The king had no desire to visit Esgaroth, but he wanted to spend the day with Bilbo. If Bilbo would be happiest rejoining the school tour, then to Esgaroth it would be.

Loading up a plate with fresh fruit and a few pastries, and pouring a cup of tea, Thorin retraced his steps back to his bedchamber. Inside, he found a freshly-showered and dressed Bilbo sitting in the window-seat.

“Bilbo, I brought breakfast,” Thorin announced.

The other man frowned at him and started to speak, only to be interrupted as Thorin continued, “Ori informed me of the error of my ways. If you would like to go over to the other island, I would be pleased to accompany you. Otherwise, I will stay here and we can talk later.” He held out the food as a peace offering.

Bilbo huffed and took the plate, taking a big bite of toast. He poked Thorin in the chest with his other hand. “I’m only partially forgiving  you…but you can earn the rest of it today by going with me to Esgaroth. I’ll even kick Thranduil in the chin for you if we meet him.”

Thorin let out a bark of laughter. “I would photograph it and set it next to my bed every night, so it would be the last thing that I see before going to sleep and the first thing I see upon waking.” He placed the tea down on the other side of the seat and walked into the closet. Speaking more loudly, he asked, “What events are scheduled on the tour?”

“No idea. Professor Grey usually hands out the schedules the night before…which clearly we missed. I’d say dress casual with good walking shoes.”

The king hummed under his breath as he picked through his shirts, finally settling on a long-sleeved black collarless shirt and dark jeans. He quickly changed and as he stepped back into the main part of the room, Bilbo whistled appreciatively.

Thorin blushed, as he pulled on a pair of shoes and his sunglasses. “I pass muster then?”

“You, sir, are absolutely edible.” Bilbo stalked across the floor and pulled Thorin into a searing kiss.

The sudden ringing of the phone broke them apart.

“I believe that’s our ride,” the king said breathlessly. He answered the phone and responded with a few curt words in Khuzdul. Hanging up, he turned back to Bilbo. “Are you ready to go?”

Bilbo nodded and licked his lips. He briefly considered saying no, but then grabbed his bag to follow Thorin out into the corridor. “What about my plate and cup?”

“Someone will pick it up later.”

Thorin showed Bilbo a different passageway that led to an elevator. Stepping in, the king hit the button for the top floor. The two exited onto the roof where Loni was waiting with a guard that Bilbo didn’t recognize. Loni passed a mobile phone off to Thorin and spoke with him briefly, gesturing both at the other guard and at Bilbo.

Bilbo tried to flatten his unruly hair as he stood there. The view from the top of the palace was marvelous and he wished he had his camera. Thorin called him out of his reverie and he followed the new guard and the king to the Sea King parked on the helipad. After climbing inside, Bilbo followed the instructions to buckle in and put on the headset.

“What’s his name?”

Thorin looked over, “Who’s name?”

“The new Loni?”

The king shook his head with a smile. “Giuseppe.”

“What?”

“He’s from Sicily,” Thorin responded, his eyes sparkling with laughter.

Bilbo’s reply was lost in the noise of the engines as the helicopter took off.

It was only a few short miles across the channel that divided Erebor from Rhovanion. Bilbo spent the entire time looking out the window while Thorin talked to the pilot and Giuseppe about the day’s plan. Only as the helicopter swept in low over the neighboring island did Bilbo realize they were actually landing at a large wooded estate just outside the city.

“Where are we?” Bilbo called out.

“Mirkwood Castle. Thranduil’s ancestors didn’t like to live in the city, so they built this monstrosity just up the river and prohibited building anywhere in the forest. Easier to land here than at the airport, I’ll give Thranduil that.”

Bilbo stumbled as he climbed out of the helicopter, but was deftly caught by Thorin and carefully set on his feet. As they moved off the small helipad, Giuseppe fell in behind them. An elderly man met them at the door.

“King Thorin, I bring welcome from my master, King Thranduil. He regrets that he cannot meet you now.”

“Hello, Galion. I wish I could say it was good to see you again,” Thorin replied.

Galion, King Thranduil’s butler, inclined his head in fleeting acknowledgement. “It is indeed a cold day in hell, _Your Majesty_. My king has _graciously_ offered you the use of a car this morning. When the,” he paused and sniffed with distaste, “ _school trip_ visits the castle at lunch for a tour, His Majesty will see you and Mr. Gloin. If that is acceptable?” Galion drew out the last part, implying he did not really care if Thorin thought it was acceptable or not.

“That will be fine, Galion. Also, I’m sure we can find our own way outside, I wouldn’t want to _inconvenience_ you.” Thorin met the other man’s tone with icy indifference.

Galion stepped aside. “Good day,  then, sir.” 

After the group had moved into the main hall, Bilbo heard the butler continue to mumble under his breath.

“Thorin? What’s his problem?”

The king sighed. “A long petty story, stemming from when I stayed here before returning to Erebor. Just ignore him.”

* * *

The driver took them to where the group was touring the old part of the capital. Frodo and his friends, including Gimli now, excitedly swarmed Bilbo when they arrived, recounting everything they had seen that morning. Their final destination before the trip to the palace was going to be a historical shopping area with local artisans, selling everything from swords and bows to handmade key chains and pottery. 

Thorin followed behind with Gloin, speaking softly in Khuzdul. Unlike in Laketown, there was a minimal chance that Thorin would be recognized in Esgaroth, so he eschewed any additional disguise beyond his sunglasses.

As the students fanned out into the stores eager for momentos of Rhovanion, Bilbo joined Thorin on a bench outside one of the wood-crafting shops. Giuseppe lingered off to the side, while the other chaperones looked to make their own purchases. 

“No more shopping?” Thorin asked.

“I’m not sure what I’d do with a sword…it’s not as though I need a letter-opener or anything. Anyway, I’m going to have enough trouble getting the tea-set back. Better to not see something else I want and then have to pay twenty-five dollars for shipping.”

“Ever frugal, Mr. Baggins.”

Bilbo shrugged. “I try. Now if Frodo- _oof_ …”

The teenager had come barreling out of the store across the street and stumbled into his uncle. Frodo grabbed his hand, tugging him off the bench. “Uncle! I found the most wicked sword. It even has a name – _Sting_! Please, may I have it as a graduation gift?”

Thorin choked down a laugh. “You were saying, Bilbo?”

“Don’t think you get to sit there. You are in a far better position to supervise the purchase of armaments than I am.” Bilbo pulled Thorin off the bench as well, just before Frodo dragged him out of reach.

Back in the store, a pale thin young man stood there, trying to fend off the pack of eager boys. Frodo pushed through. “Step aside, gentlemen. Uncle Bilbo needs a better view.” Once they reached the counter, Frodo pointed at the small, but beautifully wrought, weapon under the glass.

“May we see the sword, please?” Bilbo asked the clerk.

Pulling it out with a flourish and placing it gently on the part of the counter covered in silk, the clerk instructed them not to touch the blade with their bare hands. Everyone stepped back so that Frodo could pick up the weapon. He held it reverently and once again cast pleading eyes at his uncle.

“Let Thorin have it. If he approves, we’ll see.”

Frodo awkwardly passed it over to the king. Thorin carefully examined it, testing its balance and asking several questions about the steel and tempering. 

“It’s no tourist’s sword,” Thorin said, as he placed it back on the counter. He nodded at Bilbo. “A worthy purchase, I would agree.”

The clerk leaned forward eagerly. “You have a discriminating eye, sir! It is indeed a most worthy purchase.”

Bilbo moved forward and stood between Frodo and Thorin. “Yes, yes. But I’m the one paying the bill.”

“Only five hundred euros, sir!”

Bilbo and Frodo gasped. The older Baggins looked at Thorin again.

“’Tis a fair price, I’m afraid, Bilbo.” 

All of the other students were whispering now. Would Bilbo buy Frodo such an outrageous gift? 

Frodo tugged on his uncle’s sleeve, “Please, Uncle Bilbo.”

“Very well,” Bilbo said, with a sigh. He pulled out his wallet and passed the clerk his credit card. “I expect the diligent completion of chores until the end of the school year, young man.”

“Yes, sir.”

With package in hand a few minutes later, Frodo led the group back out into the street, where Professor Grey was directing everyone to return to the vans, so they could visit the castle and have lunch. Thorin had Giuseppe take Frodo’s sword, with a promise to keep it safe until they returned to Laketown that evening. Bilbo rejoined Thorin in the car provided by Thranduil.

“Did I really just spend six hundred dollars on a sword?”

Thorin quirked his lips in amusement. “I believe you did.”

Bilbo flopped over against the other man in the backseat. “Why?”

“Because you love Frodo and if he wants a six hundred dollar wall ornament for his graduation gift, then so be it.”

“What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever bought Fíli or Kíli?” Bilbo twisted so he was looking up at the king, forgetting for a second who he was asking.

“Their mum buys most of the big stuff from their stipend. I guess…probably their eighteenth birthday gifts. I purchased them platinum signet rings inlaid with stones from the mountain.”

“Wow. Nevermind.” 

Thorin smiled down at Bilbo. “It’s fine.” He looked up realizing Mirkwood Castle was in view. “Are you ready to meet Thranduil?”

“Can I kick him in the shins?”

“No, leave that for Kíli.” 

* * *

Inside the castle, the Ereborians and Bilbo were directed away from the school group to a separate hall, where Galion waited.

“This way, sirs.”

They followed the bad-tempered butler to a small dining room. Inside, a young man around Fíli’s age, was seated at the table.

“Legolas, my pointy-eared prince!” Gimli, forgetting decorum, ran into the room sweeping the much taller man around in a hug.

“My ears aren’t pointy, you stubby Ereborian.” Legolas laughed, hugging him back.

Galion cleared his throat. “Your Highness, may I present King Thorin and his _associates_.”

“Yes, thank you, Galion. You may go. My father will be here momentarily.” Legolas stepped away from Gimli and politely acknowledged the king and Gloin. “It is good to see you again…and I don’t believe we’ve met?” He turned to Bilbo. 

The small Englishman smiled nervously. “Bilbo Baggins, Your Highness,” he said, as he bowed.

“Please, call me Legolas. I’m pleased to meet you, although I wish it were under better circumstances.” The blonde-haired prince then approached Thorin. “I want to apologize for my behavior with Kíli.”

Thorin accepted the apology, saying, “I’m sure there is blame to be had by all parties. Our concern now is for your family’s heirloom and involvement of G.O.L.L.U.M.”

“Oh!” Bilbo interjected. “You promised to explain them to me last night.”

“ _Glaurung Ôhfûki Lâh Lamâb-dum Uryâdûd Mohilîn._ ” 

Gimli and Gloin both recoiled as Thorin spoke, but he continued, “Glaurung rejoices to behold Lamâb-Dum…erb the Halls of Passages…the Greatest Heir’s…mm…Deed Place.” Thorin frowned. “It translates even more poorly than S.M.A.U.G.”

Bilbo cast an apologetic look at his friends. “And it makes even less sense.”

“Remember how I said the last member of the legitimate line died in 2007?” Thorin asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, Glaurung’s heir also had an illegitimate son and over the years, sometimes the two worked together but sometimes they did not. There was a prophecy, or some such nonsense, not long after the war, suggesting that the line of Durin would be destroyed by one of Glaurung’s offspring in Lamâb-Dum.”

Gimli spoke up at this point, adding, “The problem is the Halls are deep under the Lonely Mountain and no one has been there in a century or so.”

“So, this illegitimate heir thought to capitalize on the prophecy?” Bilbo asked.

“That is correct, Mr. Baggins,” a new voice said.

They all turned back to the door to see a tall man with hair the same color as Legolas’ hair.

“Thranduil.” Thorin inclined his head stiffly.

“Thorin.” The King of Rhovanion swept across the room to him, ignoring everyone else. “You will keep your heirs in line.”

“Father!” Legolas interjected.

Thranduil shook his head. “This does not concern you.”

“But, I’m the one who lost the ring.”

“You wouldn’t have lost it without Prince Kíli’s interference.”

Thorin crossed his arms. “Any other day, Thranduil, I would happily argue with you about the matter. Unfortunately, our time is short and if you are to agree to the plan, we need to iron out the details now.”

“Very well. Let us eat and discuss your plan.” Thranduil gestured to the loaded sideboard.

After everyone had loaded their plates and seated themselves at the table, Thorin and Thranduil began a glaring match.

“Will you two knock it off?” Bilbo exhorted finally, completely exasperated.

The two kings looked startled while Gimli and Legolas snickered quietly behind their hands.

“So tell me of this plan to draw out G.O.L.L.U.M.” Thranduil declared. 

“It is as follows…” Gloin began.


	16. A Riddle in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The totally unexpected plot thickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Attempted non-consensual kissing, but Loni kicks butt.

After hearing the plan to flush out G.O.L.L.U.M., Thranduil had eventually agreed, with a few modifications, and the guests had returned to the tour. By dinner time, everyone was exhausted from walking around two museums in Esgaroth. At the ferry dock, Thorin drew Bilbo into an alcove away from prying eyes, and after stealing a quick kiss, promised to call the next day. Giuseppe passed Sting back to Frodo right before Gloin and Gimli left with Thorin to fly back from Mirkwood.

Monday passed swiftly for Bilbo as the school group worked hard in the morning at a new site in the city. The afternoon was spent at the maritime museum, located at the docks. It was there Bilbo learned more about the history of Thorin I and his exploits against Napoleon. Apparently the king had had an English mistress after his wife  died in childbirth. He told Frodo to remind him to look into it when they returned home.

That evening, Thorin did manage to keep his promise. They exchanged a few brief words in between planning meetings. Bilbo told the king that Tuesday they would have cooking class, and then end early in order to prepare for the ‘party’ at the palace.

Bilbo had expressed the same concerns that Thorin had originally, about involving the teenagers in the ruse, but after Gloin explained how the younger guests would be carefully sequestered elsewhere in the palace, with only adults at the main party, Bilbo agreed.

* * *

Tuesday 

“Party!” 

The girls were shrieking again and Bilbo already had a headache. Cooking classes had not gone as well as hoped. While the Mayor’s office had been flawless in support of the group, it definitely failed at finding a good chef to teach the students. Bilbo had growled quietly to himself during the entire lesson, as Mrs. Cotton tried to placate him by patting him on the arm.

Now, back at the hotel, the students were being told by Professor Grey that the princes had invited them to a private party at Arkenstone that evening. They all ran up the stairs _en masse_ trying to figure out what they should wear.

“Oh, to be young again.” Gandalf drifted over to where Bilbo was sitting in the lobby.

“Do you think this plan is going to work?”

Bilbo had informed the professor of the details at the behest of Thorin.

“I have every faith in Dwalin and Gloin to execute it without endangering the children, or else I would not have permitted it. Whether G.O.L.L.U.M. falls for it or not is another matter entirely…I don’t know that anyone will truly believe that Thorin and Thranduil have set aside their enmity.” 

“I’m sure I don’t understand why,” Bilbo responded with mild sarcasm.

Gandalf chortled. “Yes, my boy. Those two…have a history. Don’t you think you should be getting ready as well. Thorin’s special guest and all.”

Bilbo stood up and blushed. “I hardly think that…”

“Shoo, Mr. Baggins. I say you _are_ Thorin’s special guest and you don’t want to be overshadowed, do you?” The professor smiled benevolently.

“Of course not. Thank you, Gandalf. I will see you this evening.”

* * *

The two vans of students pulled up to the front of the palace. Instead of Gloin greeting them, it was Loni waiting. He escorted the group through security and then led them down a different hall.

“You need a map!” Frodo whispered.

“I’ve said the very same thing, lad,” Bilbo responded. “I don’t think they give them out…either that or it’s like Hogwarts, changing around all the time.”

Loni took them into a small ballroom, where Fíli, Kíli, Gimli and Legolas waited with some other highborn youngsters from Erebor and Rhovanion. It was clear by the divide in the room which side was which.

“Boys and girls, you are tasked this evening with breaching the cultural divide between the two islands,” Gandalf instructed them. “We will see you later tonight. Enjoy the party.”

The adults then followed Loni the rest of the way down the hall and out across a courtyard to the far side of the palace. After stepping through a pair of French doors, they all held their breath at the glittering ballroom below.

“How did they get so many people in just a few days?” Bilbo asked.

“When kings call, people listen,” Gandalf supplied. “Although I think you will find a fair number of security personnel mixed in with the nobles.”

Loni disappeared into the crowd leaving the chaperones on their own. Gandalf addressed them briefly, “Keep your eyes open for anything out of place.”

They moved forward, waving at their acquaintances from the trip who were sprinkled here and there among the assembly. Mrs. Cotton headed off to the refreshment table while the professors let Bofur draw them away for some introductions. Bilbo found himself standing alone by a marble pillar. 

He watched the people swirl about in a mix of colors and sounds. A sudden touch on his arm broke him out of his reverie.

“Mr. Bilbo?”

“Oh, Ori! How are you?”

“I’m fine, sir. I wanted to let you know that Their Majesties will be arriving in about five minutes.”

“They haven’t killed each other yet, then?”

Ori giggled. “No, sir. I think they’ve both been drinking though.”

Bilbo snorted, “I’m not surprised. Is there some place special I should be?”

“Here is fine, Mr. Bilbo. They are going to announce the new ‘treaty’ and then mingle with the crowd.”

“Thank you, Ori. I’ll talk to you later on then.”

The secretary bowed and then scampered off across the room, up the main staircase. Bilbo watched him go and decided to stay where he was to watch the arrival.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve met?”

Bilbo was distracted again, this time by a rather tall older man, dressed like a dandy. “Bilbo Baggins.” He held out his hand.

“Pleased to meet you, Bilbo Baggins, I am Nar,” he replied, shaking the offered hand. “What brings you to Arkenstone Palace this evening?”

As the man moved right into his view of the staircase, Bilbo refrained from making a snide response. “I’m here as part of an exchange group. Now, sir, if you don’t-”  

“Mr. Baggins, perhaps you would like to tell me more about-”

_Keep calm.._. Bilbo reminded himself. “Sir, I do believe the kings are arriving any moment, and I would very much like to watch.”

Nar pressed the conversation. “I’m sure you’ve seen lots of kings in…England?” He placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. 

“Mr. Nar, I don’t mean to be rude but…” Bilbo stepped back, bumping into the pillar. He started looking about for anyone to summon. Thorin was going to kill this idiot if he didn’t escape soon.

Silence swept across the room as the music stopped and Bilbo heard Balin call out, “His Majesty, King Thorin of Erebor. His Majesty, King Thranduil of Rhovanion.”

_Too late._ Bilbo still couldn’t see around the hulking man in front of him. He started to duck to the side, but Nar followed him. All out of good ideas, Bilbo gave up and let Nar herd him backwards. “Please, I must protest…”

“My dear Mr. Baggins, when I saw you across the ballroom, I knew I had to make you mine.”

_What?_ Bilbo almost laughed in his face. Last time he had checked, this was not a nineteenth century romance novel. _Ugh_. Figuring the fool now deserved whatever he got, Bilbo let Nar corner him in an alcove. When the other man tried to kiss him, Bilbo kicked him in the shin. “Get off me, you oaf.”

Nar grabbed at Bilbo’s wrists, trying to restrain him.

“«Unhand him!»” 

Suddenly, Loni was there pulling Nar back. He twisted the the other man's arm hard and then shoved him off to another guard. “«Take him out of here. Now!»” He turned to Bilbo, “Mr. Bilbo! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Bilbo crumpled on the small bench next to him. “I’m fine, Loni. Really! Just a bit shaken. How did you notice?”

“Ori told me where you were and then you weren’t there.”

_Thank goodness for Ori_. “Um, where’s Thorin?” Bilbo looked down at his hands. 

“He will be here in a moment.”

As Loni said that, Thorin approached, appearing nonchalant to the casual onlooker but with concern in his eyes.

“What happened?”

“Nar, Your Majesty.”

“Why the hell was he here?” 

“I’m not sure, sir. We are currently investigating.”

“«Guard the entrance for a moment, Loni,»” Thorin instructed.

“«Of course, sir.»”

Thorin knelt down in front of Bilbo and took his hands. “He’s gone now.”

“I know. I just…it got crazy so fast.” Bilbo flushed. “I wanted to see your grand entrance…and how much better you looked than Thranduil.”

The king let out a small laugh. He placed several gentle kisses on Bilbo’s knuckles. “I assure you, I look far better.”

Bilbo pulled his hands back and threw his arms around Thorin. “Thank you. I think I'm recovered and I believe you have some bad guys to catch?”

The two stood up and stepped out of the alcove with Loni melting back into the crowd in front of them. The party was in full swing with couples filling the floor.

“I hope that someday we might be able to dance,” Thorin said pensively to Bilbo. “But unfortunately, not tonight. Be careful, Bilbo. Stay in the ballroom and if you need to go anywhere, take Loni or Giuseppe.” He pointed to where the two guards were now stationed at opposite doors.

“Yes, sir.” Bilbo responded, only slightly serious.

Thorin rolled his eyes before casting an assessing glance around the room. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a tree-lover to upstage and a crazed rebel group to thwart.”

* * *

After the difficult start, Bilbo found himself entirely enjoying the ball. He caught sight of Thorin a few times and engaged in several conversations with Bofur, Dori and Bain. Just before midnight, he slipped out with Giuseppe close behind him to visit the loo. Looking down at his phone after leaving the toilet, he realized he had just received a text from Frodo, “911! Plz come.”

“Giuseppe, I need to go see my nephew.”

The Sicilian nodded and led Bilbo back out across the courtyard. Inside the smaller ballroom, the party still seemed to be going along fine until he saw Frodo wringing his hands by the the wall, standing next to Legolas and Gimli.

“Frodo, what’s happened?” Bilbo rushed over to the trio.

“Kíli was lured away by a fake text and then Fíli went after him!”

“What?” Bilbo struggled to breathe for a moment. “Why haven’t you called the guards?”

Legolas sighed. “We’re afraid it’s a diversion from something else.”

“We can’t tell my father or Thorin. They need to stay focused on the operation in the main ball,” Gimli explained.

“I can’t let you three go after them.” Bilbo turned helplessly to Giuseppe, who had his phone out, but hadn’t done anything yet.

“ _Merda!_ Unfortunately, sir, they are correct. I, however, can go after them. You need to stay here.” The guard turned to Gimli, who quickly explained in Khuzdul where he thought they went. “Hopefully, I shall return shortly.”

The four sat down on a few chairs by the exit. 

“Bloody G.O.L.L.U.M.!” Frodo groused. “I still don’t see what’s so important about a ring.”

“Language, Frodo,” Bilbo admonished him.

Legolas shifted in his chair. “The Rhovanion diamond has been in our family for ten centuries. It is always used as the betrothal ring for our future queens.”

“But why did you have it, Legolas?” Gimli asked, still annoyed that his friend never explained the circumstances.

“I wasn’t supposed to still be carrying it.” The blonde prince looked away. “I was supposed to deliver it to the jewelry store as soon as we landed in London. Father wanted it cleaned and remounted…but we arrived late…so I took it out partying.” Legolas blushed. “And then I saw Kíli carousing with all his friends and everyone had a few drinks…and, well, I said I was going to marry Morgana.”

“That was dumb!” Frodo interrupted.

“I know. Drunk people do stupid things sometimes. I’ve apologized to both my father and King Thorin. I only hope Fíli and Kíli are okay.”

Gimli playfully punched his friend on the arm. “Giuseppe will locate them. Don’t worry.”

A few minutes later, Giuseppe returned, alone.

“I didn’t find them…just signs of a struggle along the north wall. I’ve already called Dwalin. He was leading the exterior security. They’ve cordoned off the streets.”

“We have to tell Thorin!” Bilbo stood up.

“We don’t want a panic. Call Ori and have him ask the king to come here,” Gimli instructed, sounding worried.


	17. Battle Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama! Excitement! And no cliffhangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who have reviewed, again. I hope this lives up to expectations (if not, the 'I believe' button is available on your right).

The group, led by Gimli and Giuseppe, stepped out into the corridor and into a small antechamber, away from the rest of the party. Bilbo spoke quietly to Ori on his mobile, while Frodo and Legolas fidgeted, keeping their eyes out in the hall for any unwanted guests.

Bilbo hung up and announced, “Ori is sending the king over now with Loni.”

Frodo came to sat next to Bilbo, whispering, “What are we going to do?”

“For now, wait for Thorin. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize the search, but trust me, Frodo, I won’t let them sideline us either. I’ve already come to adore those two scamps and I know it would kill Thorin if anything happened to them.”

“He’s coming,” Legolas said, a few minutes later.

Thorin and Loni hurried down the hall and entered the room.

“What’s going on?” Thorin asked, glancing around at the subdued assembly.

Gimli and Giuseppe both cast pleading looks at Bilbo, who realized that he was going to have to be the one to tell the king. He pushed Frodo off the couch.

“Thorin, come sit a minute, please.”

The king walked over and tentatively seated himself on the couch. Everyone else turned away tactfully.

“Bilbo…” Thorin trailed off, surprised when the other man grabbed his hands.

“I…” Bilbo dropped his head, unable to look Thorin in the eyes. “It’s Kíli. We think he’s been snatched by G.O.L.L.U.M. and Fíli went after them.” Glancing up, he saw Thorin flinch and he squeezed the king’s hands tighter. “Dwalin already has people out searching for them. They will be found.”

Unexpectedly, Frodo came back over and threw his arms around both men. Bilbo felt Thorin cling to them for a moment.

Loni cleared his throat. “Sir, with your permission, Giuseppe and I would like to join the search.”

Thorin let go of Frodo and Bilbo and nodded. 

The two guards swiftly departed, leaving a silent Thorin with Bilbo and the three young men. Looking around for something to do, Gimli offered the king a drink, which he readily accepted.

Suddenly, Bilbo’s message tone sounded.

Pulling it out of his pocket, he saw a note from a number dialed only once previously.

“mr boggins – tell uncle sorry @ hidden door come quick”

“It’s Fíli!” Bilbo jumped up. “They’re at the brewery.”

“Let’s go,” Legolas stated.

“Shouldn’t we call someone?” Bilbo hesitated.

“When the king was our age, he was fightin’ S.M.A.U.G. in these very halls. It’s our turn to fight G.O.L.L.U.M.” Gimli exclaimed.

Bilbo wisely refrained from observing that they’d lost.

Startled out of his trance, Thorin agreed with Gimli. “We’ll notify Gloin on the way, but there’s no time to waste.”

* * *

At the palace gate, they found an unconscious guard.

“Pull him into the guardhouse and grab his gun,” Thorin commanded Gimli, who had just hung up his phone. 

As they moved down the empty street, the king quietly issued instructions. “Frodo, keep hidden at the entrance. When Gloin or Dwalin arrive, tell them what we’ve planned. Gimli and Legolas, clear the perimeter along the floor. Bilbo and I will work along the upper levels. Keep your eyes out for both Fíli and Kíli. Do not engage, unless there is no other option, otherwise wait for the others.”

When they arrived outside the brewery, Frodo ducked behind a decorative barrel, blending into the darkness. Inside, there were a few utility lights on, but no noise. Gimli and Legolas methodically moved off to the left, while Bilbo followed Thorin up a narrow staircase.

The king cleared office after office, with Bilbo carefully watching the hall behind them. Suddenly, there was a shuffling in the final room in the corridor. Thorin lunged at the shape and pulled up…Fíli.

“Shhh!!!!” The prince exclaimed.

“Fíli, what’s going on here?” Thorin whispered.

“I followed them up this way, but I couldn’t go out on the cat-walk.” He looked away, ashamed. “Too high.”

“Is it G.O.L.L.U.M.?”

“Some of them. It sounded like there was a disagreement about the plan, so a few have already gone back to their boat with the ring.” Fíli hugged his uncle. “Please, find Kíli!”

“I will. But you will go outside, right now. Frodo is in the shadows by the entrance. Wait for Dwalin and Gloin there. And when this is over, you and I will be having a chat.”

Abashed, Fíli nodded and stepped back. “Yes, sir.”

Bilbo moved aside and let Fíli slip down the hallway. “Now what?”

“I can’t ask you to follow me up there, Bilbo. It’s too dangerous.” The king looked grim.

Bilbo shook his head. “If it were Frodo, I’d go up there. I can’t let you go alone.”

“Thank you, _kurdûh_.” Thorin held the other man’s gaze for a moment and then opened the emergency door at the end of hall. “Keep low and hold on to the railings.”

The lights were even more diminished up in the eaves of the building. Bilbo strained his ears for any sound or movement, but all he could hear was Thorin’s breathing in counterpoint with his own. As they slowly made their way out toward the middle, there was finally a shout.

“HEELP!”

The king stopped. “’Tis Kíli. They’re just ahead.” More loudly he continued, “We’ve got you surrounded, minions of G.O.L.L.U.M.! Surrender now.”

“Uncle Thorin!” Kíli called out.

A single man rushed the king from the darkness and the two started to grapple in earnest. Bilbo clutched on to the railing as it started shaking. Thorin struggled in the confined space to overtake the much larger man.

Abruptly, the man jerked away, just as Gimli called out from below, “Snipers!”

Bilbo saw the red dots on Thorin’s back and panicked. He ran up to push the king out of the way. Realizing what was happening, the attacker grabbed and twisted Thorin as he went forward, sending the king and then Bilbo over the edge.

_Splash!_

Instead of the ground, Bilbo realized he and Thorin had plunged into an open vat of viscous liquid. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be beer. Above them, he could hear more fighting and even a gun shot. He realized that Thorin wasn’t moving.

“Thorin!” Bilbo grabbed the king just before he slipped under the liquid. “Thorin, wake up.” Treading to keep himself afloat, he tried to hold up the bigger man as well. “I can’t keep us both up.” Bilbo didn’t think that Thorin had been severely injured, but maybe he had hit his head in the fall. 

Every few seconds, the Englishman would drift under before kicking them both back to the surface. Realizing that he was rapidly tiring, Bilbo wanted to call out, but he was afraid to draw the attention of any of G.O.L.L.U.M.’s operatives. “I’m sorry, Thorin.” He let the king go for a moment, and swam over to the side of the vat, reaching around for anything to grab that might help them float.

The search was futile.

Bilbo dove back under the liquid and pulled Thorin up again and knew he had to call for help. “Is anyone there? Gimli! Legolas!”

He heard running footsteps on the bridge above him. “Mr. Baggins?”

“Dwalin? Oh, thank god. Please, Thorin is unconscious and I can’t keep us both afloat.”

“I’ll be down in a moment. Try to move over to the side.”

After awkwardly pulling the king to the edge of the vat, Bilbo looked up to see Dwalin repelling over the railing with a thick rope. Once in the liquid, the commander of the military pulled the king into his arms, carefully securing him. He whispered softly in Khuzdul to the unconscious man.  

Dwalin looked up and said, “The others will be coming shortly. Thank you, Mr. Baggins, for saving him.”

Bilbo could see the solemn look in the other man’s eyes.

“I could do nothing less…and I would do it again.”

More voices started calling out for Thorin and Dwalin. Suddenly, all the lights turned on and Bilbo had to blink away the brightness. Once everyone had arrived on the catwalk, Gloin organized additional ropes to pull everyone up, including the still unconscious Thorin.

“Call for Oin, immediately.” Dwalin commanded, once they had settled the king on the floor of the narrow bridge.

Bilbo saw both Fíli and Kíli huddled together by the emergency door, with Frodo standing close behind them.

“Mr. Baggins, would you please come away?” Loni said, appearing at Bilbo’s elbow. “I’ve been asked to escort you and Frodo back to the hotel for your safety.”

“But…”

“Please, Mr. Baggins. There’s too much going on here and down at the docks. We’ve taken the rest of your group back to the hotel as well.”

Bilbo acquiesced, but stopped to hug both of the princes before he let Loni take him and Frodo out to a waiting car. 

“Ori will call you as soon as there is news.” Loni promised, as he closed the door.

Frodo all but climbed into Bilbo’s lap, and they held each other silently the entire trip back to the hotel.

* * *

The next morning, Gandalf announced that there would be no volunteering that day and only a short trip out to a nearby art museum. The other students were all okay but concerned for their friends. Frodo and Bilbo were both excused and they used the opportunity to sleep and watch television. By mid-afternoon though, Bilbo had become restless and worried that Ori had not called. 

“Uncle, I’m sure if something had gone wrong, they would have notified you.” Frodo settled down next Bilbo on the small couch in the hotel room.

“I know, Frodo. I know,” Bilbo sighed. “But I can’t even bake or do anything. All I can do is sit here.”

“Why don’t you text Fíli? He mentioned that you had his number last night when we were waiting for Dwalin.”

Pulling his mobile out of his pocket, Bilbo conceded that his nephew had a good idea. He typed in, “No word from Ori…how is Thorin?”

A few moments later, the phone chirped back. “arguing w gloin, secret trip 2 hospital coming up right now but thorin ok.”

Bilbo snorted. “I think I need to go downstairs for a _walk_ , Frodo. I’ll be back in a bit.” He winked, and Frodo smiled.

“Sounds good, Uncle. Enjoy your _walk._ ”

* * *

Sneaking past Mrs. Cotton proved surprisingly easy and Bilbo stepped around the corner from the hotel, just as Fíli pulled up in a non-descript Volvo with Gimli in the driver’s seat.

“Your car, Mr. Boggins,” Fíli announced, as he jumped out and popped a bow. He also passed over a cloak. “Lots of media about, you’ll want to blend in a bit.”

Gimli drove like a madman, weaving them back and forth across the city, _to lose any tails_ , as he put it. At the hospital, he pulled up to the rear loading dock and stopped. Fíli climbed out again and gestured for Bilbo to follow.

“Isn’t Gimli coming?”

“No, he wants to get back to his heterosexual lifemate.”

“Shut up, Fíli!” Gimli shouted out the window, continuing with a few choice words in Khuzdul, before he drove down the alley.

Bilbo blinked. “What?”

“That pointy-eared tree-lover, Legolas.”

“Oh.” Bilbo shrugged, still confused. 

“It’s a long story, Mr. Boggins. But we must hurry now, visiting hours have just ended and the halls will be mostly empty.”

Bilbo trailed behind the prince as they went up the stairwell just inside the dock’s entrance. “Why didn’t Ori call?”

Fíli frowned. “Dwalin and Gloin’s orders. _Security_. _Discretion._ Same reason they sent you away last night.”

“I don’t understand…”

“They are afraid if something happened to you, Uncle would never forgive them, so they are trying to keep you away,” Fíli explained. “They also want to protect his privacy.” He stopped at a door and pulled up his own cloak. “There may be people on this hall. Keep your head down. Uncle Thorin is at the end.”

Fortunately, no one noticed as they tiptoed down the hall until they stood before two guards, one of whom was Giuseppe.

“Your Highness, I know you were told to leave Mr. Baggins at the hotel.”

“He needs to see Uncle Thorin.” Fíli looked the other man in the eye and continued, “And in his absence, I am ruler of Erebor, so you must let us in.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Giuseppe smiled, faintly amused, as he stepped aside. “The king will see you now.”

Fíli pushed the door open and Bilbo rushed in behind him. Thorin was sitting up in bed, pale and bruised, but awake.

“Thorin!” Ducking around the prince, Bilbo flew over to the side of the bed. 

“ _Kurdûh!_ ” Thorin responded softly. He looked over at his nephew. “You’ve disobeyed orders, again…but with the best of intentions this time, I think.” He laughed, but quickly grimaced.

“What happened?”

“A minor concussion, a fractured ankle, and a few cracked ribs,” Thorin detailed out his injuries. “I’ll survive, but no running around for a few weeks.”

Fíli took his leave to go visit Kíli, who was in the room next door, promising to return in an hour to take Bilbo back to the hotel.

After gingerly hugging the king, Bilbo settled into a chair next to the bed. “Tell me everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapters have been written and are being edited, so I plan to post every day until its done.


	18. The Crossroads of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more details about the raid...but really its about the fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people have asked about any follow ups, I have some ideas that I will post tomorrow in the notes, but they will have to a wait a few weeks, I need to do some other stuff.

Thorin described as best he could what had happened. The tale was a mix of reporting from Fíli and Dwalin. The king explained that although Kíli was in the room next door at the hospital, he was just under observation with a mess of bruises and cuts. Unfortunately, the ring was not recovered during the operation but one of the top commanders of the organization had been picked up by Gloin outside the brewery. It was he who had organized the kidnap of Kíli. Gimli and Legolas had freed the prince and grabbed a few low-level operatives (the source of the gunshot Bilbo had heard), but everyone else eluded capture. 

Bilbo could tell that Thorin was tired, so he interrupted the story and filled in the missing moments after they went over the catwalk. He also described how Frodo and he had sat in the hotel all day with nothing to do but watch dubbed soap operas.

Before he knew it, Fíli was back at the door, ready to return him to the hotel. Bilbo kissed Thorin on the temple and reluctantly followed the prince out into the hall. Fíli placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Uncle Thorin will be right as rain in no time,” Fíli pledged.

“I know, Fíli, but it is Wednesday night. We’ll be leaving for Boston on Saturday morning. Even if Thorin gets out tomorrow, which I doubt, there won’t be time to do anything,” Bilbo sighed, walking slowly down the corridor.

The prince hummed for a moment. “I have plan…or at least, half a plan. We could probably arrange for you to have dinner here tomorrow night. I’m sure Bombur would cook up something and we’d bring it to the hospital.”

“That would be lovely, Fíli, but I hate to have everyone go to so much trouble, especially if we’re trying to be discreet.”

“Thus, why it’s only ‘half a plan.’ I’ll talk to Ori, we’ll figure something out.”

* * *

Thursday

In an unexpected turn of events, the students were asked to help clean up at the brewery, with the promise of free beer at lunch. Everyone was glad to assist and pleased to see Bifur and Bofur again. The two men repeatedly thanked Bilbo for his protection of the king, until he had to beg them to stop, totally embarrassed.

In the afternoon, the students visited a set of Roman ruins just outside the city. Bilbo confessed to Gandalf that he wasn’t at all interested in this period of history and so seated himself in the small café-gift shop by the exit, to watch for the students as they finished touring the site. Frodo and his friends, still full of energy despite the long morning, scrambled from hilltop to hilltop, investigating the rocks for at least an hour.

Bilbo checked his mobile restlessly, hoping that Fíli or Ori would call with a miraculous plan to get him back to the hospital. He smiled though as the four girls on the trip collapsed down at the table with him.

“We’re tired, Mr. Baggins,” Arwen explained, and then she sniffed, “and dirty.”

Lothiriel went up to the counter and bought water for all of them, bringing the bottles back and dropping them on the table. “And you look kind of depressed, Mr. Baggins. Is there anything we can do?”

“Thank you, ladies, I appreciate the thought. I’m hoping I might have one more chance to see the king before we leave on Saturday but I’m not sure if it is going to work out.”

“It is very romantic,” Lothiriel said, leaning forward eagerly. “Meeting the king like that in the palace and then the party. Just like a fairy tale!”

Bilbo reddened. “Er, yes. But, please, not a word to anyone.” Looking around to change the subject, he realized that the rest of the group was starting to trickle into the shop. 

“Of course, Mr. Baggins,” Eowyn promised, as Bilbo stood up. “Frodo threatened us with a lifetime cookie ban if anyone told!”

Bilbo, grateful for his nephew’s foresight, thanked the four again and went over to where Frodo and Sam were looking at guidebooks. As he picked up an ‘Authentic Roman Cookbook,’ his phone rang. It was Fíli.

“Mr. Boggins! I’ve done it…or rather, Ori has done it.”  

“Please, Fíli, I think we can dispense with the formalities.”

“Very well…Uncle Bilbo!”

Bilbo sputtered as Fíli continued unrepentant, “Bombur has created a picnic dinner that can easily be carried into the hospital and Loni has agreed to sneak you in as a new guard. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, but we were getting Kíli settled in at Arkenstone.”

“No worries, Fíli. I’m grateful for everything. What time should I be ready? We’ll be leaving the main Roman ruin in a few minutes.” Bilbo turned to quietly shush Frodo, who kept trying to catch his attention.

“Six o’clock. The guard shift ends shortly before seven. Loni will pick you up.”

After thanking Fíli and ending the call, he turned to Frodo, “What is it?”

“You should find a get-well gift for King Thorin. Maybe flowers or something?”

“I’d need something that could easily be carried in – and I don’t know what he likes…besides food…and Erebor.”

Sam and Frodo both snickered. 

“What about an invitation to come visit us in Boston?” Sam asked. “That’d be wicked.”

Frodo nodded eagerly, adding, “Maybe Fíli or Kíli could come, too.”

Bilbo smiled, “You lads might be on to something. Let me see if there are any suitable cards.”

Looking through the postcard rack, most of the pictures were standard landscape shots with a few funny captures of the beach here and there. As Gandalf made a last call for purchases, Bilbo grabbed a generic ‘wish you were here’ card and carried it up to the register. 

* * *

Now, a few hours later, standing awkwardly in the hospital corridor, Bilbo was questioning his plan. Fíli had just passed the picnic basket over and Loni had settled in the chair outside Thorin’s room. Running his free hand through his tangled curls, Bilbo took a steadying breath. Asking Thorin to visit Boston would be a big step and one that couldn’t be decided on a whim. He figured that he’d wait to see how dinner went before handing over the card with the carefully written invitation.

After a brief knock on the door, Bilbo stepped into the room. Thorin was sitting up in bed, sorting through a pile of paperwork, with the television murmuring low in the background.  The king’s hair was messily pulled back and the bruises were more prominently showing on his face along with dark circles under his eyes. He smiled faintly at Bilbo’s surprise appearance and cast a questioning look at the basket. 

Placing it on a table at the foot of the bed, Bilbo grinned back. “Bombur and Mim cooked for us.” He walked over to Thorin’s side. “Should you be doing work with a concussion?”

Thorin snorted. “It is only a few things that couldn’t wait. Some follow up reports on what happened with G.O.L.L.U.M., who apparently have now lost the ring as well.”

Bilbo blinked and responded, “What?”

The king pushed the paperwork to the other side of the bed, so there was room for Bilbo to sit down. “Whoever was in charge of the ring, ‘misplaced’ it. They are now calling for everyone to leave them alone.”

“Do you think it’s true?” Bilbo asked, sitting down.

“Yes, but only because they wouldn’t choose to be humiliated over this, especially after the botched kidnapping.” Thorin shook his head ruefully. “I’m going to leave tracking the ring to Thranduil’s underlings for now. We need to work our advantage against G.O.L.L.U.M.” He gingerly pulled Bilbo into a hug. “I’m very glad you have come to visit again.”

Bilbo carefully hugged back, mindful of the king’s injuries. “Are you hungry?” He asked, after a quiet moment.

“Yes. They keep trying to feed me Salisbury steak.”

“Seriously?” Bilbo grimaced, sitting up.

“I don’t joke about food, _kurdûh_ , surely you should know that by now.” Thorin frowned, feigning a wounded look.

“I wouldn’t have even thought that such a thing would exist in Erebor.”

“Aren’t they grillsteaks or something like that in the U.K.?”

“Similar, but not quite the same.” Bilbo shuddered at the thought. 

“I think the hospital’s kitchen administrator is from Ohio. He’s added all sorts of interesting things to the menu.” Thorin leaned back into the pillows. “Please tell me there are scones.”

Bilbo shrugged. “I haven’t looked. Fíli brought the basket.” Getting up from the bed, the younger man opened the lid and started pulling items out. First came the plates and silverware, followed by two glasses. Then, there was a bottle of sparkling grape juice, appropriate for a hospital patient. Finally, Bilbo uncovered a salad, a container of pasta, and a small cardboard box. He handed the box over to Thorin. “If there are any scones, they’re in there.”

Thorin eagerly opened the container. “Yes, oh, Bombur, I’m giving you a raise.”

Bilbo giggled and started serving the food. “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

The king pulled a small rolling table across his lap, allowing Bilbo to set a plate down. Bilbo noticed Thorin was jealously guarding the cardboard box on the far side of the bed. 

“I’m not going to take your scones, Thorin. Remember, _I_ made them. Perhaps you hit your head harder than they thought.” 

Thorin scowled, digging into the salad. “Mind your tongue,” he retorted, but he quickly placed the box back up on the table.

“So, what’s on the telly tonight?” Bilbo asked, after they ate silently for a few minutes.

“Nothing of import, I was just watching the news.”

They discussed Bilbo’s trip to the Roman ruins and Thorin mentioned that there were other ruins out near Dale. Once Bilbo had cleaned up the remnants of dinner into the picnic basket, Thorin handed the cardboard box over to the other man.

“Don’t you want any?” Bilbo was confused.

“Yes, but…” Thorin looked away and cleared his throat. “It would please me greatly if you picked first.”

Bilbo’s heart filled and he knew that Sam’s idea was the right one. He plucked out a scone and passed the box back to the king, who still looked uncomfortable. “I brought you something from our tour today.”

“Oh?” Thorin asked, around a mouthful of scone.

The other man couldn’t help but laugh as he passed over the small post card, which he had doctored with Frodo’s help. It now said, ‘Wish you were here…in Boston.’ On the back, Bilbo had scribed, “Dear Oak, You are cordially invited to visit Boston at your earliest convenience. We eagerly look forward to welcoming you to our home. Sincerely, Bilbo (and Frodo).”

Thorin’s eyes lit up. “Seriously?”

Consciously mimicking the king’s words from earlier, Bilbo answered, “I don’t joke about such things, _kur…duh_ , surely you should know that by now.”

Reaching out, Thorin tugged Bilbo over to him. “It’s _kurdûh_.”

“That’s what I said,” Bilbo maintained.

Thorin snickered softly. “I am starting to think that Khuzdul might not be your language.”

Bilbo frowned and plopped down on the bed. “Fine. I’ll stick to English…or French. But, the offer still stands.”

Pensive for a moment, Thorin nodded. “I would like to come to visit you and I refuse to wait another fifteen years to see you…”

Bilbo sensed a ‘but.’

“But, I need to work a few things out on this end first.” Thorin gently squeezed Bilbo’s hand. “I’m not quite ready to be the next scandal on the cover of _Middle Aged and Royal_.”

As he nodded in agreement, Bilbo allowed Thorin to settle the two of them next to each other in the hospital bed. “I understand.”

The two shared a series of light kisses, as Bilbo was concerned about Thorin’s cracked ribs and Thorin was simply too tired for anything more. They turned to watch the movie playing almost silently on the television. After a short time, the king drifted off to sleep, although he shifted restlessly every few minutes.

When a quiet knock came from the door, Bilbo climbed off the bed to open it, finding Loni waiting patiently. “Mr. Baggins, I need to take you back to the hotel.”  

“Of course, one moment.” Bilbo hurried back to the bed and placed a soft kiss on Thorin’s cheek. “Sleep well, my king.” He turned off the television and dimmed the lights, following Loni out into the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shout out to Robin Hood from the BBC and his 'half-plans.'


	19. Bless the Broken Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckets of schmoop (because most of the fandom makes me weep with their stories) and a whole lot of Dwalin (who demanded more screentime).

Friday 

Dwalin hurried through the corridor to the king’s hospital room. He was unfortunately late for the update on Thorin’s health. The day had started out okay but an over-turned truck on a main road put the commander behind, and then a lack of parking at the hospital had completely ruined the morning.

Turning the corner, he stopped, surprised to see Gloin comforting a sniffling Ori. He walked up to the pair. “«Thorin in a mood this morning?»” 

Ori nodded, while Gloin shrugged and responded, “«Quack here thinks he needs to stay a few more days. Thorin wants to go home now.»”

“«What does your brother say?»” Dwalin asked.

“«Oin believes he would do better overall back at the palace, but that one more day here would probably still be beneficial,»” Gloin explained, with a final pat on Ori’s arm. “«Ori was the unfortunately victim of the argument.»”

Dwalin sighed, “«If you’d just stand up to him, lad.»” 

“«He’s the king!»”

“«He’s also a bit of a berk sometimes.»” Dwalin retorted.

The sound of raised voices inside the room caught their attention.

“«I’ll deal with this.»” Dwalin pushed open the door to find Oin arguing with the other doctor, while Thorin remained sullenly in bed. “«Gentlemen,»” he said, acknowledging them all with an assessing look, “«What seems to be the problem?»”

“«I want to go home.»”

“«Your Majesty, I don’t really think…»” the other doctor began, only to be interrupted.

“«You’re right. You don’t think.»”

“«Thorin, enough.»” Dwalin rolled his eyes. “«Doctors, please give us a moment.»” He gestured toward the door, allowing the other two men to leave. After a beat, he continued, “«Alright, my prince, what’s going on?»”

Thorin glanced away and crossed his arms. 

“«If you’re going to be this way, there is no way anyone will consent to letting you finish recovering at Arkenstone.»” Dwalin said, walking over to the bed.

The king bit off a curse and looked up at his best friend. “«I…»”

Concerned now, Dwalin pulled a chair over and sat down. “«Tell me. They can wait outside all morning if need be.»”

“«You’ll think I’m being ridiculous.»”

“« _I know_ you’re being ridiculous right now.»”

Thorin heaved a sigh and twisted in the bed, gazing directly at his friend. “«I keep waking up to the sensation of drowning. Every time I close my eyes, I see myself going over the catwalk. I can’t seem to relax. The only time I’ve really slept is when Bilbo was here last night…or when they had me drugged.»”

Dwalin took a deep breath. This was a troubling development. It also explained the king’s increasingly short temper. He recalled the sleepless nights after the prisoner exchange when the two of them had stayed up until dawn: Thorin afraid to sleep and Dwalin determined to be a good friend to his prince. The days had been almost as bad, with Thorin jumping and snapping at the least provocation.

Thorin was now looking away again, ashamed to have exposed his weakness.

Dwalin closed his eyes. “«Very well. I will get you released…on two conditions.»”

“«Yes?»” Thorin replied, with a hopeful look on his face.

“«One, you will do everything that Oin says and two…»” Dwalin’s face grew serious. “«You will sleep _and_ if you cannot, you will let someone help.»”

Thorin nodded as Dwalin tried to comfortingly pat his arm. “«You are not alone, my prince.»”

The Commander of the Armed Forces stood up and squared his shoulders as though preparing for battle. He opened the door to the room and summoned the doctors. “«Gentlemen, this is what we are going to do…»”

* * *

Meanwhile, at the hotel, the students were gearing up for their final day on the island. Bain had appeared right after breakfast with an actual Khuzdul instructor, who spent a few hours reviewing what everyone had learned during the trip. The man had quickly dispaired at their useless vocabulary. Then they said their farewells to Bain, who invited them to come visit again. Almost everyone planned to spend the afternoon at the beach, including the chaperones. Frodo shamelessly mocked his uncle’s paleness as Bilbo slathered on the sunscreen.

Once they arrived at the shore, Bilbo curled up under a large umbrella with a tome on the history of Erebor that he had picked up in the hotel’s gift shop. After being provoked multiple times by Frodo and his friends though, he chased them out into the water, cheerfully roughhousing with them. When they were all exhausted, the students flopped out on towels, drinking water and eating the final few crumbs of Merry’s successful return visit to the bakery from the beginning of the trip.

“So, is the king going to come visit then?” Sam asked, after a lull in the conversation.

Bilbo looked up from his book. “Maybe. If he does, it probably won’t be until summer.”

Frodo whispered something to Sam that Bilbo couldn’t quite hear. “What’s that?”

“Nothing, Uncle.”

“It’s rude to whisper.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Frodo responded, unrepentant. 

“I can still have your sword returned to Esgaroth.”

Frodo sighed. “I was just observing that I think you and King Thorin look good together.”

“Heh, the king and the cook,” Bilbo snorted.

The boys all laughed.

Suddenly, Frodo was serious. “Is he getting out of the hospital today?”

“I’m not sure, lad.” Bilbo glanced down at his mobile. “He still looked pretty beat-up yesterday. Hopefully, I’ll get to talk to him before we leave tomorrow, but...” he trailed off. “I don’t know.”

* * *

Fíli and Kíli resumed their stealthy positions in Thorin’s closet. Ori had called thirty minutes prior, informing them that the king was on his way. With Gimli’s help, they had filled the room with balloons and a giant card signed by all of the palace staff. The two princes had also signed a separate card expressing how sorry they were about what happened. They still hadn’t had a chance to sit down together with Thorin to discuss the attack.

The sound of the doorknob turning made them still. They could hear the muffled voices of Dwalin, Thorin and…their mother?

Kíli poked his brother and whispered, “We’re dead.”

Fíli nodded, in sad agreement, “I couldn’t have asked for a better brother.”

Peering around the door, they saw Dwalin hand the cards to Thorin, who was sitting in a wheelchair.

“Well, they’re apparently sorry, Thorin,” Dís said, as she poked at the balloons with a soft smile.

“I know. Fíli and I have spoken some but I haven’t seen Kíli yet.” Thorin shifted and switched to Khuzdul. “«Dwalin, get me out of this contraption.»”

“«Gloin and Oin will be here in a minute. I’d rather wait for them.»”

Thorin shifted again. “«I have to…go.»”

Fíli and Kíli couldn’t stifle their chuckles at that admission, which gave away their position. Dís marched over and yanked the door open the rest of the way, causing them to tumble to the floor. “Boys.”

“Sorry, mum.” Fíli looked contritely at his mother and stood up, assisting his brother up as well. He turned to Dwalin. “We’ll help.”

Dwalin indicated that Kíli should push the chair over to the bathroom while he and Fíli positioned themselves to aid Thorin to stand up on one foot. “Careful with the ribs,” he commanded as Fíli reached out to grab his uncle’s side.

With excruciating slowness, they managed to maneuver one step at a time into the bathroom. Once over by the toilet, Thorin demanded privacy. 

Shaking his head, Dwalin pushed Fíli out and said over his shoulder, “Give a shout when you’re done.”

Thorin huffed an obscenity in Khuzdul, just before his friend closed the door.

In the main bedchamber, Dís and Kíli were arranging the bed and a change of clothes for Thorin. Gloin and Oin came in and looked around, confused by the absence of the king.

Dwalin pointed at the bathroom door and then quickly asked for Oin to give them the instructions for taking care of Thorin, so he couldn’t try to circumvent any of them with his own orders.

“Dwalin!”

They heard the frustrated shout, muffled by the door. Oin offered to take his place, but Dwalin declined. He knew there’d be more grief if someone unexpected walked in on the king.

A red-faced Thorin tried again to push himself into a standing position, but his ribs and ankle were not cooperating.

“«Here, my prince. Hang on.»” Dwalin pulled the other man up and carefully averted his eyes as he tugged up the king’s pants. “«Gloin and Oin are here now. Who else do you want to help?»”

Still flushed, Thorin sagged against Dwalin and said, exhausted, “«Gloin. Send my sister and nephews out. I’ll see them later.»”

As Dwalin called out the king’s orders, Gloin appeared at the door and they could hear Fíli and Kíli grumbling as they were exiled from the room, although it sounded like Dís was preparing to give them a tongue-lashing for their actions on Tuesday night.

Once over by the bed, Oin helped the king put on the fresh pajamas and handed him a small cup of pills with a glass of water. When Thorin had swallowed them all and settled into bed, Oin promised to return later and followed Gloin out into the hall.

Drawing the drapes closed and turning off all but the small bedside lamp, Dwalin placed a chair next to the bed and sat down, opening up a folder of reports that Ori had left for him. “«Sleep now,»” he said, gruffly.

Thorin was already struggling to keep his eyes open. “«I want to see Bilbo again before they leave tomorrow,»” he demanded softly.

“«Sleep now,»” Dwalin repeated. “«I will get your Englishman here before he leaves. I promise.»”

“«Thank you.»”

_Wha-?_ Dwalin’s head snapped up, but the king was already asleep. He pulled his phone out and jabbed at it impatiently. Texting was his least favorite activity, but he didn’t dare to make any noise. Finding Ori’s contact, he sent, “get baggins here 4 dinner.”

* * *

The ringing of his mobile startled Bilbo, who had decided to start packing after they returned from the beach. He smiled when he saw Ori’s name pop up on the screen.

“Hello, Ori. How are you?”

“I’m well, Mr. Bilbo! Thank you for asking. How was your day?”

“It was very nice. I finally got to spend some time down at the beach with my nephew and his friends.” Bilbo stopped filling his suitcase and moved over to the window. “How’s Thorin?”

“Better, I think. Mr. Dwalin convinced the doctors that he should be allowed to continue recovering at the palace...that immediately improved his mood.”

Bilbo laughed. “I’m sure, I’m sure. And no doubt, Bombur’s cooking will help.”

“Yes, well, that’s why I’m calling. Would you be available for dinner tonight? The king was hoping to see you again before you left.”

“Of course. I’m sorry that we weren’t able to get out and do some other things, but I’m always happy to come over to eat.”

“Excellent, sir. Either Loni or Giuseppe will pick you up around six, if that works for you?”

“Yes. I’ll see you later on then?” Walking back to the bed, Bilbo pulled one of his favorite shirts back out of the suitcase.

“Maybe,” Ori replied. “I’m supposed to be off tonight. If I don’t see you, safe journeys.”

Bilbo thanked him and hung up to call Gandalf, asking for permission to sneak away one last time. The professor graciously agreed and told Bilbo not to worry about what time he got back to the hotel, as long as he was back before the vans left in the morning. Blushing furiously, Bilbo assured him that it would be an early evening since Thorin was still recovering.

* * *

This time it was Fíli and Kíli waiting to greet Bilbo at the entrance to the palace.

“Uncle Bilbo!” They called out in unison.

Loni swallowed a snicker as Bilbo hugged the two princes. He promised to have the car ready whenever Bilbo wanted to leave.

“Thank you, Loni. You’ve been wonderful,” Bilbo said, as Kíli ushered him through the door.

Fíli took the lead, although Bilbo was almost sure he could find his way up to Thorin’s chambers. “How are you, lads?”

“We’re doing better,” Kíli replied. “We got to watch Gloin formally ban Nar from ever entering Arkenstone again, under pain of death.”

“You heard about that, then?” Bilbo asked, discomfited that his altercation had become common knowledge.

“Only that he was trying to get handsy. Nar’s a creep,” Fíli spat. “He was a little too close to S.M.A.U.G. during the exile, but no one could prove anything.”

Bilbo nodded. “He’s definitely a creep.”

“Oh, and our mum is here. Just so you know,” Kíli added. “We don’t want you to be surprised.”

“She got here today,” Fíli explained as they reached Thorin’s door. “I think it’s going to be a family dinner. Sorry.”

Disappointed that they wouldn’t be alone, Bilbo didn’t say anything as the trio entered the king’s room. 

A beautiful older woman was sitting in a chair next to Thorin’s bed, speaking animatedly. Dwalin lingered in the window-seat, silent and watchful. The king himself was sitting up and he looked much better than when Bilbo had left him last night. Some of his color had returned and the smaller bruises looked to be fading.

Bilbo waited politely for an introduction.

“Mum, this is Bilbo Boggins, an old friend of Uncle Thorin’s.” Fíli smiled as he mispronounced the man’s name again. “Mr. Boggins, allow me to introduce Dís, daughter of Thrain, Princess of Erebor.”

Bilbo bowed. “Your Highness, I’m pleased to meet you.”

Dís walked over and gave Bilbo an measuring look. “I hope that I might say the same after dinner.”

“Dís!” Thorin exclaimed.

“«I want to make sure he’s good enough for you,»” Dís replied.

Dwalin stood. “«He is.»” He glanced over at the king and started to leave the room. “«Thorin, I’ll be back later.»”

Thorin nodded and then held out his hand, “Bilbo?”

Lost in the cross-talk, Bilbo was happy to go over and see Thorin. He gave the king a light hug while the two princes pulled a table over to the bed and set up three more chairs. 

“Dinner will be arriving shortly,” Kíli announced.

* * *

Two hours later, Bilbo was relieved when Thorin’s family retired for the evening. He had been truly pleased to meet Dís and happy to spend more time with the princes, but his flight out tomorrow was looming heavy on his mind and he wanted some private moments with the king, who was already tiring.

Climbing up on ‘his’ side of the bed, Bilbo snuggled up to Thorin. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“So do I.”

“Have you given any more thought to visiting?”

“Yes. Fíli’s term ends on June fifteenth. He and Kíli will arrive in Erebor for summer vacation sometime that week. I’ll schedule some meetings for the week after, so we’ll be able to come to Boston for a few days before going down to New York and Washington.”

“We?”

“Fíli will have to stay here, unfortunately. I want him to have a chance to be in charge without everyone running to me if they don’t like his decisions. Kíli hasn’t been to the U.S. before and I think it would be a good opportunity.”

“I guess it’s only a few months,” Bilbo said, as he carded his fingers through Thorin’s hair. 

“And have you given any thought to what will happen after this summer?”

Pressing a gentle kiss to the king’s temple, Bilbo considered for a moment. “Only slightly. I’m not going to decide anything until Frodo’s settled. I don’t want him to make a decision based on what he thinks I want him to do.”

“Very well.” Thorin turned his head to catch Bilbo’s lips with his own. “I won’t push,” he said, in between kisses.

The other man moved closer, forgetting the king’s injuries for a moment, until a stifled curse in Khuzdul made him pull back. “Oh, Thorin, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, _kurdûh_. No permanent harm.” Thorin fell back into the pillows. “I fear though that any more…physical…activities are simply going to have to wait.”

Bilbo nodded and sat up. “Before I go tonight, I wanted to say thank you. I didn’t think for one moment that I would ever see you again…and now, to have a second chance.” He looked away, unaccountably distressed.

Thorin smiled and pulled Bilbo back against him. “Oh, _kurdûh_ , I know.” He paused and then said, all in one breath, “I’m…I’m sorry that I left the way I did…and if you ever tell anyone I told you that, I will deny it.”

Bilbo snorted into Thorin’s shirt. “Ori told me that you never apologize.”

“I would apologize to you every day if it would make you stay with me.”

At that quiet confession, Bilbo choked up and started to cry. “And then you were almost dead!”

Thorin carefully cradled Bilbo in his arms. “Shhh…I didn’t die. Everyone is fine.” The king hummed softly under his breath. “My dream of gold.”

“What?” Bilbo looked up with tear-filled eyes.

“Every day Erebor was lost, we dreamed of our gold…but it is you, Bilbo, who is worth more to me than all the gold in the Lonely Mountain.” Thorin blinked, his own eyes suddenly sparkling.

Bilbo didn’t know what to say to that, and buried his head back into Thorin’s shoulder, sobbing.

It was to this scene that Dwalin arrived a few minutes later. Afraid that something terrible had happened, the commander rushed into the room, only to be waved back by the king. He picked up a box of tissues and carried it over to the bed. Bilbo gratefully took a handful and dried his face.

“ _Zâyungizu_ ,” Bilbo said suddenly, looking directly at Thorin. _I love you_.

“And I, you, _kurdûh_ ,” Thorin smiled and kissed Bilbo one final time. “You’ve been practicing. I’m so pleased. Now, have a safe journey tomorrow and call Ori when you arrive home.”

Sniffing, Bilbo grinned. “Still bossy, aren’t you?

Both Thorin and Dwalin threw their heads back with laughter and then the king pointed to the door, “Out!”

“«I’ll take him back  to Loni, Thorin, and then return.»” Dwalin followed Bilbo into the hall and closed the door behind him. He looked at the small crazy Englishman. “Thank you, Mr. Baggins, for everything. I hope to see you again soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to look up "I love you" and got "Men lananubukhs menu," which seems like a mouthful (and is probably missing the correct accents). So, instead, I'm going with the Neo-khuzdul verb, "Zâyung" (to love) and conjugating it to "Zâyungizu." Let me know if you have a better idea.


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Boston...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read the last chapter as I have posted them at the same time.

June 2013 – Arnor, Massachusetts

The stampede on the stairs caught Bilbo’s attention. Then, his nephew called out, “They’re here! They’re here!”

Bilbo rushed out of the kitchen and into the living room. Frodo narrowly took the lead and made it to the front door first, practically pulling it off the hinges. Running onto the porch, they saw a black Land Rover parked in the driveway. 

Kíli was already standing by the trunk with Loni, pulling out suitcases. Giuseppe was parking a second car on the street, in front of the house, and Thorin was still sitting in the front seat of the Land Rover, on the phone. 

Frodo ran over to Kíli, hugging the prince and then shaking Loni’s hand. The two young men had been communicating regularly, as they had both decided to attend Oxford in the fall with Fíli.

Bilbo approached the vehicle at a more sedate pace, waiting for Thorin to realize he was there.

The king caught Bilbo’s eager gaze and swiftly ended the call. Getting out of the car, he swung the smaller man up in his arms. “ _Kurdûh!_ ”

“Hello, Thorin,” Bilbo said. He pulled the king close. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Thorin bent down and kissed him. “Me too.”

Dramatic gagging in the background brought them back to themselves. Thorin cast a regal glare at both nephews. “Enough.”

Chastened, Frodo picked up a suitcase and gestured for the others to follow him inside. “Uncle has been baking all week. I think we have enough to feed an army,” he said. “Kíli, you’re with me. The guestroom is for Loni and Giuseppe – they can fight it out for the bed and the couch.”

Upstairs, Thorin allowed Bilbo to lead him down the hall to the master bedroom. After placing the suitcases on the floor and hanging up a garment bag, Bilbo cornered Thorin against the door, demanding a kiss.

“I’ve been waiting for months and I won’t wait a moment longer.”

“And you say I’m the bossy one!” Thorin tilted his head in mock astonishment.

“No more talking.”

The king started to laugh at his beloved, who yanked on his hair in retaliation and pulled him down for more kisses.

Out in the hall, they heard Frodo talking to the others. Suddenly, Thorin drew back. “Scones?”

“Yes, there are scones, and no, you won’t get any if you stop kissing me again.”

Thorin scooped Bilbo up and cheerfully tossed the smaller man on the bed, pulling at his own shirt as he moved across the room. “Z _âyungizu_. You wouldn’t deprive a man of sustenance would you?”

Bilbo grinned wickedly as he started to unbutton his jeans. “Try me.”

“Oh, _k_ _urdûh_ , I certainly intend to.”

Downstairs, hearing another thud from above, Frodo  swiftly put out a plate of cookies and suggested they might want to go sit outside for awhile. Kíli picked up the tray and fled out the kitchen door, Frodo on his heels. Giuseppe joined them as Loni volunteered to sit watch. The guard smiled to himself in the living room as more laughter drifted down the stairs. This was going to be a trip to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm going to take a short break but here are some of my follow up ideas:
> 
> "Weekend at Bilbo's" - there will be a full continuation of the epilogue...and they might go to a baseball game (although I have fallen asleep at Fenway Park...)  
> A complete sequel involving Bilbo moving to England? Erebor? something...possibly a more complete cross-over with Merlin (or maybe just a few more extended cameos). I'm still tossing around ideas and I don't have anything concrete. This won't happen until the summer though.  
> I was also thinking about a Thorin I/Master and Commander cross-over...just a short piece - but I'm not sure I'm brave enough to write that (feels like it might be too much in the realm of OCs).
> 
> Anyway, thanks again to all my readers and faithful reviewers! I'll be back soon.  
> PS. I make a plea for some more Dwalin/Thorin fic (my favorite after Thorin/Bilbo).


End file.
